


Set My World in Motion

by henriettayuki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, M/M, Mild Language, Slice of Life, Team!fic, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettayuki/pseuds/henriettayuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A college party brings out the invited and the uninvited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by suchaprince's [Somebody Bring Me the Head of a Love Song [Derek/Stiles mix]](http://suchaprince.livejournal.com/30165.html). Really I can't thank her enough for the musical inspiration, suggestions and cheer leading.
> 
> And I'm always in debt to the lovely and talented [amepourtant](http://amepourtant.livejournal.com) for betaing this fic despite her ridiculously busy schedule.

Allison ran her hairbrush through her dark curls, flattening them into soft waves before giving up and putting her brush down with an exasperated huff. It was nearly dark and she was nowhere near being ready to leave. The nicer outfit, that she had started the evening wearing, was now buried and wrinkled under half her closet. Shoes, ranging from heels to boots, landmined her floor, leading a trail to her closet and cutting the room in half, one side an organized, sterile ikea advert and the other a cautionary tale of teenage hormones and insecurity.

" You have papers you could write," she told herself. "Or discussion question to prepare..." trailing at the sound of indecision. She tugged her fingers through combed hair, ruffled and tangling it in agitation as her head met the desk. She kept it there until the hairpin digging into her forehead became unbearable. "Which you could've decided two hours ago before you made this mess." She swatted at the pin indented in her forehead, sending it into the abyss between her desk and bedroom wall.

Despite the mess, Allison wore an uninspired outfit, apt for a study meet or coffee break but forgettable in the party department. She huffed and shoved her chair back with a scrape as both hands searched for the shirt hem to pull it over her head. She tossed it into the pile and pushed around to find a top that shimmered a bit and got her a few second glances that she pretended not to see. She pulled it on, freeing her hair from the collar.

As she fought her hair into a clip, her phone rattled against the window. The text read _Ready?_.

Allison glanced back at her reflection. She pushed around the discarded jewelry and found a tube of lipstick, applying it on liberally.

"Allison, grow up," she scolded, refusing to look in the mirror again, in fear of losing her nerve again, and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. There wasn't enough time to change into something nicer. "You just need to make an appearance. Stop making this into a big thing."

Her phone vibrated again.

_You better not bail on me again._

_If you make me, I will drag you._

Allison sighed.

Well, there was that option.

She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter, pushing the junk mail and a few bills across the clean, slick surface until it met her pile of textbooks that she moved before the disaster in her room began. Hesitation tugged her wrist.

Her phone buzzed again and she broke from the trance. She collected her purse along the way and locked up behind her.

 

\---

 

Lydia ran her gloss over red stained lips and pursed, feeling the sticky substance even out.

"Perfect," she smiled, adjusting her headband to show off her new earrings better. They were a gift from her parents but she couldn't remember if it had been important or a call for attention, neither of which were important.

She rounded her bed, heels catching the carpet a bit, and admired her narrowed down selection of three coats before pulling her favorite from its hanger. It wrapped tightly at the waist and protected her outfit from view. With a last glance at the final ensemble, Lydia walked into her living room with her head held high.

Tonight was hardly the first party or social event of the year but the first big sorority party meant something to people, therefore, it meant something to Lydia. People who were not seen were not remembered and Lydia not only wanted to be remembered but also seen. Especially in her new outfit. High school lent its to duality; she easily straddled the vapid to scholar line with an attitude that could mask any suspicions toward her true intentions but college demanded a spotlight. Grades only glittered with a high profile application of skills. She could no longer hide behind a list of well attended parties. Those were only to remind people that Lydia Martin was anything but predictable. And she had evidence from both sides of the spectrum to prove it.

She scrolled through her phone while gathering her purse and keys. The screen told her that it had been almost a week since she last spoke to Jackson. The last message was short and simple. _Fine._ A final resignation to their souring high school fling fizzling and dying; she thought it was a perfect ending to their back and forth fighting. A definite improvement from their freshmen year break up where the final words were _FUCK OFF!!!!!_ Maturation, if anything.

She scrolled on.

Stiles held first in her recent texts, their late night banters escalating with Jackson's decline. She debated calling him but remembered clearly that he told Scott that they had plans with her tonight, despite their lack of invitations. When he had an invitation, Stiles was the hardest person to find, even going so far as "helping" out in the vet lab freshmen year, but bar him at the entrance and suddenly there was a scheme involving trees and ending with taking Scott to the free clinic. It took stamina to be friends with Stiles, and in Scott's case a lot of healing time. Allison, on the other hand... The illusive Argent knew how to bury her nose, invitation or not, and Lydia never turned down a challenge.

She tapped her friend's name and texted: _Ready?_ She glanced at her watch; worst come to worst she could swing by and drag her.

 

\----

 

Stiles slid across the dirty bathroom tile, cleaning a streak with his socks. He mouthed the words to a song blasting from his bedroom and bit his lower lip as he popped his collar just to admire the look. He gave himself his best badass glance through the spotted and filmed mirror.

Scott wandered in from his bedroom, looking a little unsure at his hands before holding up two ties.

"Should I wear a tie?" he asked, holding up two options but obviously not sold on either. One was a classy blue that Stiles had a sneaky feeling was actually his and striped monstrosity that Stiles definitely wanted to keep.

Stiles fixed his own collar and pulled both ties from Scott.

"Dude, neither," he sighed. "Just...I don't know, put some product in your hair."

"Can I borrow some of your gel?" Scott asked.

"Don't use it all," Stiles said and tossed the bottle at him.

Scott ran it through his hair, focusing on his reflection like the right run through would make his look perfect.

"Are you sure Lydia invited us to this?" Scott asked with hesitation. "I thought she said never again after last time."

"And that's what she said, last time," Stiles retorted. "Lydia just likes to pretend she hates us."

Scott didn't look convinced.

Stiles threw his arm over Scott's shoulders.

"Don't worry," Stiles assured him. "Look at us. Super classy gentlemen. Who would turns us down?"

They grinned at themselves in the speckled mirrored.

"Super classy," Stiles repeated. "Classy as balls."

Scott snickered and pushed him off.

"Just make sure we don't make a hospital trip," Scott begged. "My mom nearly ripped my head off last time."

Stiles pretended to not hear him, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Just wait," Stiles continued, "this night is going to be awesome. I promise."

 

\---

 

Jackson sighed, checking himself in his car mirror, running his hand through his hair as the passenger door opened.

"What took you so long?" he huffed.

"Hey, I could have gotten another ride," Danny pointed out, staring at Jackson, daring him to say otherwise.

Jackson sized up his best friend and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, because that outfit doesn't scream desperate," Jackson snapped, starting the car up.

"Fuck off," Danny scoffed. "Don't take it out on me that Lydia blowing you off for another week."

Jackson glared at him. Danny knew the line between playing and 'don't fucking touch it' territory and this was the latter.

Jackson threw the Porsche into gear in response.

"Which, I'm giving another day," Danny continued.

"What?"

"You and Lydia," Danny clarified. "If not hours."

"She's not going to be here tonight. Probably crying her eyes out over ice cream and crappy chick flicks with Stilinski."

Danny rolled his eyes. They both knew if Lydia was doing anything other than going to this party, it was plotting Jackson's demise.

"Just don't make a scene," Danny warned. "It's embarrassing." 

Jackson glared at him.

"Don't do what?" Jackson dared him to clarify.

Danny shook his head, focusing on the road, taking in the speed limit, which they were not adhering.

"Can we go to this party and not have it turn into a disaster?" Danny tried again.

"Only Lydia makes parties into a disaster," Jackson assured him, ignoring Danny's eye roll. "But I can see you trying for her record in that outfit." 

Danny turned to him with surprised, wide eyes.

"See," Jackson continued with a smirk, "I can catch onto these things."

Danny laughed.

"Fuck off," he chuckled and they continued on their way.

 

\---

 

"Where are you going?" Boyd asked, twisting a pen between his fingers. He had the small dinning room table filled with his law books and papers, all of it threatening to tumble off the sides or collapse the fragile legs altogether.

Erica looked up at the question and grinned.

"You look good," she licked her pale, lipstick-free lips.

"Out," Derek replied flatly.

"I thought the keys gave that away," Isaac muttered from where he was sprawled on the floor beside Erica, his textbook untouched but his computer open.

Derek glared at him as he pulled his keys from the kitchen counter but Isaac shrugged, returning to his browsing.

"So, where are you going, Derek?" Erica pressed.

"I have to drop some things off at Peter's office," Derek relented.

Erica glanced at Boyd then to Isaac. It made Derek sigh.

"What?"

"Can you drop us off somewhere on the way?" she smiled.

Derek huffed.

"I'm not your taxi service," he stated with no bite.

"Oh come on," Boyd retorted. "What are you going to do otherwise? Drive out into the middle of nowhere, get drunk, and pass out?"

"Again," Isaac muttered.

"I don't need the commentary," Derek snapped.

"Boyd has a point," Isaac continued, ignoring Derek's comment. "Come on. It'll be fun. Maybe you can even make out with a drunk girl? Or dude." Isaac grinned like that was his exact plans.

"And we won't have to infringe on your 'no house parties' rule," Boyd added, reasonably.

"Because that's option B," Erica admitted with no shame.

Derek glared at them, feeling his rein on the house slipping further from his fingers.

"It's just one party," Boyd pointed out. "You can still go to Peter's instead."

"And still have time to go out into the middle of no—"

"It was one time," Derek snapped. "One time. Stop bringing it up."

"Hey, it was just as traumatic for us to go looking for you at three in the morning. We thought you got yourself killed," Erica insisted, the honesty in her claim showing clearly on her face.

Isaac watched everyone quietly but Derek knew they all shared the same sentiment. He sighed. It had been one time but it had been incredibly reckless on his part, something that he was thankful they never brought up in their teasing.

"Fine," Derek relented. "You have two minutes."

Isaac shut his computer quickly as Erica pushed herself up, leaving the tatters of cloth and pencils on the floor. They scrambled to their rooms, pushing each other down the hall.

"They're like children," Derek muttered.

"Just think of all the other applicants and be grateful," Boyd reminded him, smugly, from his spot at the table.

Derek just shook his head and went to wait in the car, regretting more than a handful of choices.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison approached the house slowly, hands in her leather jacket. There were a lot of other students walking on both sides of the street and down it. Lydia had said something about welcoming the new pledges, but really the whole sorority/fraternity thing went over Allison's head.

The wind bit through her and she wrapped her arms around herself. Despite the crowds, Allison felt alone and vulnerable. She had half a mind to touch her pepper spray just to feel better before she noticed Lydia standing on the curb, waiting for her.

"Allison!" Lydia called, waving her over. Per normal, Lydia was decked out and gorgeous; it made Allison wish she had at least put on a dress. Lydia eyed her. "Honestly, do you not have an outfit that doesn't scream Rambo?"

Allison looked at her jeans and leather jacket, unsure what part screamed Rambo, and shrugged.

"You said dress nice," she pointed out.

Lydia rolled her eyes but took Allison's arm and led the way to a house. A small line was forming but the redhead walked past them to a pretty girl and a big man at the door.

"Hi, Lydia Martin," she announced, her voice going higher than usual with an indulging smile. The man looked at the list then at them both. "And guest," Lydia added.

"I don't—"

"No, it's fine," the girl interrupted with a smile. She eyed Lydia openly, which earned her a pleased smile. "Head in."

"Thank you," Lydia smiled, genuinely this time, moving to the door, letting Allison lead. She paused in the doorframe, next to the man, and leaned over. "And I'm right there," she seethed, pointing to her name, a third of the way down the list. She gave him a scathing glare and headed inside.

"Was that really necessary?" Allison asked, leaning into Lydia's arm, which was again linked in hers.

"Of course," Lydia replied, head high, looking around. "Everyone should know their rank. That's the whole point of these things." She paused and turned sharply on her heel toward Allison. "And to get drunk."

Lydia dragged her away toward the backyard. Allison glanced over her shoulder to see Jackson and Danny talking and drinking in the room they just avoided. She sighed, knowing this was going to get interesting.

 

\----

 

Scott tried to look inconspicuous as Stiles slid through the cracked open gate. There were a lot of people out but no one appeared to notice Scott standing alone in front of a fence while a party raged on the other side.

"Come on," Stiles whispered loudly.

Scott slid along the wood and nearly caught his foot in the door as he slipped into the backyard. Stiles pushed the door shut and grinned at their success.

The boy they had bribed in line held his hand out for the second twenty Stiles had promised him.

"Thanks, man," Stiles slapped a ten in his hand and threw his arm over Scott's shoulder. "Welcome to second year."

Stiles led him into the crowded backyard. People were already starting to drink at various stations set up. One was offering some type of bomb. Another had a lot of girls doing colorful shots.

"Are you sure she's going to be here?" Scott asked, eyeing the crowds. Crowds were really not his thing. The only reason he was here instead of playing video games was because Stiles insisted she would be here.

Stiles sighed loudly.

"Yes, Scott! For the fifth time, I asked her on Thursday and her answer was yes. In fact it was 'yes, Lydia is making me go', which means there's no way out."

Scott nodded. He remembered freshmen year when he met Stiles' fabled Lydia Martin during Orientation. They had done every meet and greet, mixer party and undergraduate ritual known to Beacon Hills University. Even a mild case of food poisoning hadn't given Scott an out.

"Did Allison say anything about me?" Scott asked.

Stiles looked at him and threw his hands up.

"I got you in, didn't I? Give me some credit. Preferably starting with 'Thank you, Stiles. Because of you, my life doesn't suck.'."

Scott grinned.

"Thank you, Stiles. Because—there she is!"

Stiles looked over his shoulder and grinned. Allison Argent stood awkwardly next to Lydia, holding a beer to her arm as she hugged herself.

"Well, why don't we say 'hi'?" Stiles suggested and led the way.

Allison noticed them as they got close and smiled meekly. Scott raised his hand to wave back when Stiles pulled his arm down.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles greeted. "Allison." He rested his hand casually on Lydia's waist.

Lydia rolled her eyes and looked at him in annoyance.

"Stiles," she bit out. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you I was coming," Stiles replied. "I know I did. What are you doing here? Come to see me?" He grinned lecherously.

Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles always went into pervert mode around Lydia. It was like a familiar touchstone he had to mark before moving to something more natural. It made little sense to Scott but he didn't have many friends from high school, let alone a close one from junior high.

"Are you here because you were eavesdropping on my conversations again?" Lydia asked, turning to face Stiles.

"You know I'm not rude like that," Stiles insisted. "But you were kinda talking really loud and I did hear about a party and its time and location. But I wasn't eavesdropping, I promise."

Lydia's perfectly glossed lips pursed as she glared at him then sighed in resignation.

"Fine. Get me a drink."

Stiles grinned and nodded.

"Yeah! Come on! Drinks!"

Stiles led her toward the house, hand on her lower back, until she pushed it off.

"Um..." Allison started, turning from them and toward Scott, "are they friends?"

"Kinda?" Scott answered, unsure. "They're from the same hometown."

"Makes sense," Allison agreed with a smile before taking a quick drink from her beer. "You're Scott, right? From Econ."

Scott smiled dopily.

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I sit in the back."

She nodded.

"Yeah, the professor accidentally hit you with the chalk that one time," she added.

"Um...yeah," Scott replied awkwardly, not sure if he liked that incident was his stand out moment.

"If you're going to wake students up by throwing something, you should at least have good aim, right?" she laughed.

"Yeah, totally," Scott agreed with a wide grin.

"Did it hurt or anything?"

Scott was mesmerized by her dark eyes checking his face for any evidence of damage.

"Nah," Scott assured her, gesturing to his face. "This was all like this before I got hit."

Allison threw her head back and laughed.

"Do you want to get something to drink?" she asked, comfortably.

"Yeah, definitely," Scott nodded and let her lead the way. 

 

\----

 

Lydia looked around the crowded house for a clean place to stand.

"I honestly stared at the thing for two hours," Stiles continued to babble behind her, following with both of their drinks in his hands. "I know you probably—"

"Stiles!" Lydia interrupted, turning on her heel.

Stiles nearly slammed into her.

"What?"

"It's the weekend," she exclaimed. "I don't care about our O-Chem project and I won't care until after I cure whatever hangover I get tonight. Got it?"

"Sure," Stiles replied. "I just...you know...running my mouth, like usual."

Lydia sighed.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Jackson, sans Danny, talking to a tall brunette girl. She hadn't meant to pout.

"You and Jackson off again?" Stiles asked. She could hear the sympathy in his voice.

She spun around and smiled a fake smile.

"So you're always this handsy?" she teased.

Stiles just stared at her, disappointed.

"Don't look at me that way," she snapped. "You couldn't possibly understand."

"No, I couldn't," Stiles admitted. "But Lydia—"

Lydia shook her head.

"Just stop. I never want your pity."

"I don't—"

"You do. So just stop."

Stiles lowered his gaze.

"I want to have a good time," Lydia smiled. "That includes having tons of alcohol."

Stiles chuckled in resignation and shook his head.

"Well then which is the more gentlemanly thing to do? Getting us drinks or watching the train wreck and driving you home while you barf over my Jeep?" Stiles asked.

"Let's get some shots," Lydia laughed.

Stiles offered Lydia his arm and they went in search of liquor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and reading.<3

Danny watched Lydia and Stiles head to a drink table just outside the back door and shook his head. Best friend or not, Jackson was a dumbass when it came to her. Not that she was much better. Every six months they shifted off again and Lydia would disappear with Stiles to nurse her broken heart and Jackson would man whore it up until he realized, once again, that no one but Lydia would deal with his bullshit. It was the worst part about going to college with people from high school.

"Hey," a boy Danny recognized from the copy shop greeted.

"Hey," Danny smiled.

"You want a refill?" the boy asked.

Danny looked into his cup; it was still a third full.

"Sure," Danny smiled and followed the guy into the kitchen. "How long have you worked at the copy shop?"

The boy turned around with a pleased grin.

"So you do recognize me."

Danny shrugged, playing it off.

"By face, yeah."

"I'm Matt," the boy responded and pulled himself up onto a counter in the kitchen.

"Danny." He leaned in close, between Matt's legs. There was no point in playing coy. Tonight was a night of too many opportunities to be wasted by coyness.

Matt shifted forward but with an awkward politeness.

"Yeah, I knew who you were," Matt assured him. "By face and name."

"Yeah?" Danny baited.

"Yeah," Matt answered with firm assurance. "You had way too many copies last week to ignore that."

Danny laughed loudly.

"Touché."

"There are copiers in the library, you know," Matt pointed out.

"Yeah, but then how would I check out the copy staff?" Danny flirted.

Matt rolled his eyes but still obviously amused and interested.

"I don't run on bullshit," Matt pointed out.

Danny sipped his drink.

"And I don't run on watered down Jack Daniels but here I am."

A big girl pushed into Danny, trying to get to the keg nearby.

"Hey," the girl grunted, "either fill up or get lost. It's too fucking crowded."

"Hey," Matt snapped, "we're filling up." He waved at a guy with the keg hose until it was handed over. "So how about you give me your cup or fuck off."

Danny stifled a smile.

"Whatever, just fill the damn cup."

Matt filled her cup up and turned to Danny.

"Seriously," Matt shook his head. "You have to do everything yourself."

A couple of giggling girls came up for a refill, pushing Danny to the side. 

"Sit up here," Matt motioned to the counter beside him. When Danny moved next to him, Matt leaned in and whispered, "and now we have the keg."

Danny grinned. He relished in the alcohol working its way into his blood stream and the warm leg pressed flushed against his from knee to hip.

 

\---

 

Jackson seethed as he leaned back to look outside a window. Lydia and Stiles threw back one shot after another to cheers outside. Lydia's red hair was barely visible in the dense crowd. Only Stilinski's stupid shaved head stuck out among the field of hairy skulls.

Lydia had some nerve showing up with Stilinski. Jackson hadn’t liked her relationship with Stiles in junior high and he had grown to hate it as they grew older. All they talked about was advance studies and non-sport courses, and purposely used SAT words to talk over his head. With every little bump or explosive fight, Stiles was there, comforting and touching her. Stiles and his never stopping, never shutting mouth.

"Do you ever go to the home—"

"What?" Jackson interrupted.

The girl talking to him was either a sophomore or a junior; he couldn't remember. She had mistaken him for one of the football kickers, which had been amusing at first, but her complete failure at realizing her mistake was annoying. Also, who gave a fuck about football, let alone the kicker?

Honestly, he hadn’t heard a word after that.

"I said--"

Without bothering to say anything, Jackson walked away, leaving the girl mid-sentence.

It took seconds for Jackson to find Danny. His best friend was sitting on a kitchen counter, chatting with some guy next to a keg as they refilled cups. Jackson rolled his eyes. How did Danny end up serving the alcohol? It was like Danny didn't want to get laid. Last time Jackson checked, being served alcohol, not serving it, got you good ass at these things.

"Trade you," Jackson stated, taking Danny's cup and replacing it with his empty one.

"That's Jack," Danny pointed out.

Jackson shrugged and drank it anyway. It was disgusting and watered down but he covered it well.

Danny rolled his eyes and let his new "friend" fill the empty cup. There was more touching than was needed for cup passing but Jackson forgave them when Danny took Jackson's cup to add beer to it.

"I thought you said you weren't desperate," Jackson whispered in Danny's ear.

"Ha. Ha," Danny rolled his eyes but his smile told Jackson he was actually enjoying himself.

Jackson shook his head. Whatever.

"So are you both here on lacrosse scholarships?" Danny's friend asked as he filled Jackson's cup then handed it back.

"Yeah," Danny replied, giving Jackson the beer. "We played on the same team in high school."

"Is that how you met?" the boy asked.

"Yeah," Jackson relented and sipped the beer. "Danny used to be defense."

"I'm still defense," Danny insisted.

Jackson shrugged.

"Goalie is like the king of defense," Jackson argued.

Danny sipped his beer but Jackson could see a satisfied grin beyond the rim.

"You two are so full of shit."

The three men turned at the new voice. Lydia stood behind Jackson, weirding him out, because he hadn't seen her approach them. Stilinski held her up but his own footing wavered under him.

"They became friends after Danny offered to give Jackson a handjob after fourth period history in middle school," Lydia announced, gaining them some stares from other people in the kitchen.

"Burn!" Stiles shouted as he threw his hand out at them.

Jackson backed away to avoid being hit.

"Shut up," Jackson gritted out. He turned away, dismissing them. "Go find someone to clean you two up. You reek."

"Hey," Stiles jumped to defend them but Lydia squeezed in front of Stiles without a waver in her stance.

"At least I won't be needing to see a doctor tomorrow after I get Chlamydia from some skank," Lydia bit back.

Jackson smirked and turned back to them.

"I didn't know you had Chlamydia," Jackson feigned surprise. "Because judging by how much you're teetering right now, I would say you'll be crying for me to take you back in two hours."

"Um...do you two—"

"Shut up, Matt," Lydia snapped at Danny's friend and glared back at Jackson. "For the record, I have never crawled back to you. So you remember that next time you get daddy issues."

Jackson barely moved before Danny was between him and Lydia, holding Jackson's shoulder firmly. Stiles jerked forward to push Lydia's back.

"You better watch it," Jackson snapped, pointing at her over Danny and Stiles' shoulders.

"Or what?" Lydia flipped him off as Stiles led her away. "I'll find you crying in my bed again?"

Jackson ground his teeth but backed away from Danny.

"God, I hate her," he growled. He could still see Stilinski's hand on Lydia's back, leading her back to the outside. Jackson drowned his drink and turned back to the keg and handed his cup to Matt.

Danny glanced at Matt in embarrassment then moved to have distance between himself and both Matt and Jackson.

"Yeah," Danny muttered. "We like glossing over that." He sipped his drink, trying to play it off but Jackson knew that in the near future, Danny was going to kick his ass for this.

 

\---

 

"Seriously, Lydia?" Stiles sighed as he led her toward the backyard through a makeshift dance room. "Why do you let him get to you?"

"He's an asshole!" she shouted over the music, gaining them a few glances. "You know what? I don't care! I'm sick and tired of...of all of it!" She grabbed Stiles' elbow. "Dance with me!"

"Hell yeah!" Stiles shouted and pulled her onto the dance the floor. The bass pounded in his chest and he jerked his head to match the tempo. He closed his eyes, seeing the bright lights flash against his eyes lids. Parties were freaking awesome.

 

\----

 

Boyd grinned and bro-hugged the guy at the door.

"Looking good," the guy grinned. He tried to keep his eyes off of Erica's nearly exposed breasts but failed. Boyd resisted pulling Erica closer. There was no way to subtly exert his boyfriend status without pissing Erica off and tonight was all about being drunk and being with Erica.

"Just the two of you?" the guy asked.

Boyd nodded back to where Isaac toed a stone and Derek watched something in the distance. He wished his roommates would try to act normal and not like pedophiles under surveillance.

"And my two roommates," Boyd replied.

The guy nodded sympathetically then moved his head toward the door.

"Go on in," he said.

Boyd waved toward Isaac and Derek to get their attention before resting his arm around Erica's waist and leading her inside. It was still crowded, which meant alcohol was going to be low this late at night. As if reading his mind, Erica handed him a flask from her coat pocket after taking a sip first. He took a swig.

"First drink!" Erica called.

Boyd turned to see her with her cellphone out. He gave her a thumbs up and heard her phone snap a photo.

"Classy," Derek grumbled as he slipped by.

Erica scoffed playfully.

"And to think I was going to share!" she shouted at him as she moved back to Boyd's side.

Isaac pushed by, resting his hands on her shoulders briefly. His glossed over eyes tried to focus but only succeed in telling them that his pre-gaming shots were finally kicking in.

He licked and bit at his lips.

"I'll see you later," he muttered.

"Don't forget our beer pong date!" Erica shouted, laughing at her best friend and clinging to Boyd possessively.

"Uh huh," Isaac agreed before disappearing into the crowd.

Boyd laughed at Isaac's obvious drunk state.

"Come on," Boyd nudged at Erica. "Let's get a dance in."

She grinned and pulled him toward the dance floor by his coat lapels.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek made his way to the backyard as his roommates dispersed like scavengers into the crowded house. Not surprisingly, he didn't recognize anyone. He debated going to see Peter when a girl touched his elbow.

"Hey," she smiled and nodded toward her friends, crowding around a back fence. "Want to do some Jell-O shots?"

"Do what?" Derek asked.

She giggled and walked back to her friends. Derek hesitated before following curiously.

"This is..." the girl paused and looked at him with glazed eyes.

"Derek," he provided. He towered over them but still felt cornered.

"Here we go!" a new girl exclaimed as she approached them. She glanced at Derek then drew in close when she pulled the cookie sheet off another to reveal a tray of brightly colored Jell-Os. Hands shot out and quickly took the small cups. Suddenly there were boys around and more hands grabbing than Derek remembered being bodies. He jerked back at the sudden influx.

"Here," someone handed him a shot.

The girls were preoccupied by the new boys and Derek snuck away. He sucked the brightly colored shot out of the cup and chased the last chucks with his tongue.

"Really?" a familiar voice taunted.

Derek lowered the cup to see Lydia Martin teetering before him. She stumbled into him, spilling a bit of her drink on him. He restrained a heavy sigh.

"Here," she pushed her cup into his hand and straightened up. Derek looked into the cup before sipping it. It tasted like watered down whiskey.

A lanky boy skitted up to them then nearly fell as he came to a sudden stop. He took in Derek's appearance then glared at Lydia.

"That was mine!" he pouted.

Lydia just grinned and turned back to Derek.

"Hey," she teased with a dazed gaze. "I didn't know you hung out with the lowly underclassmen.”

Derek glanced at her glaring friend then back to her. He drank the watery whiskey; the boy scoffed and threw his hands up, nearly hitting someone behind him.

Lydia took the initiative and began introductions.

"Stiles, this is Derek Hale. He's Peter Hale's nephew," she introduced, looking at Stiles with a knowledgeable nod. "You know, the professor I'm TAing for?"

"Ah," Stiles nodded. He looked like he was trying to change attention rails.

"And this is Stiles," Lydia continued.

Derek and Stiles stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but she apparently decided that was sufficient.

"Best friend and currently, drunk," Stiles laughed, sticking his hand out.

Derek took it hesitantly before Stiles pulled away. Derek stared at him, unsure if he was drunk or crazy.

"Don't break my hand!" Stiles wheezed through his laughs. Lydia giggled then gasped.

"There's Allison!" Lydia exclaimed, taking off. She grabbed Stiles' hand.

"You owe me a drink!" Stiles exclaimed over his shoulder. He pointed at his eyes then at Derek but nearly tripped when he stepped on a discarded cup.

Derek stared after them, perplexed, as he sipped the whiskey and went to wander a bit more.

 

\---

 

"Yeah, so it was all luck of the draw," Scott finished.

"That's amazing," Allison replied with genuine interest. "I honestly thought you and Stiles were childhood friends or something. You guys are always so funny in class."

Scott shrugged sheepishly.

"Nope. Just randomly selected roommates. It made freshmen year easier.”

"That's so much better than my first year," Allison sighed. "My dad paid extra so I got a single room and could concentrate more on my studies. I honestly know no one."

"You know Lydia," Scott pointed out.

Allison smiled.

"Yeah. She pretty much demanded to be my friend in our American Literature class last semester. Apparently we were surrounded by idiots?" Allison giggled and pushed her hair back, nervously.

"And she just succeeded into dragging you out?"

Allison laughed.

"I'm stronger than I look," she insisted, which earned a grin from Scott.

"I wasn't disputing—Woah!"

"What you guys talking about?" Lydia leaned in, pushing Scott further down the sofa into Allison.

"I—" Scott stammered, trying not to sit on Allison as Lydia's pushing got rougher. Her tiny hands pressed deep into his ribs.

"Oh my God, how much have you had?" Allison asked over Scott's shoulder. Her face was aghast. Scott opened his mouth to reply when he noticed Stiles stumbling up to them.

"Um..." Scott swallowed, taking in his roommate's state. "What happened to you two?"

Stiles looked at his watch then squinted, holding his wrist close to his face.

"Dude, it's been like...like two hours," Stiles said.

Scott looked at Allison sheepishly.

Stiles shoved his way onto the couch.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, trying to rearrange himself to not sit on Allison and not touch Lydia's breasts.

"Jackson's such a poo face," Lydia huffed, leaning into Scott's shoulder as he tried to sit her up.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, full heartedly. "Which we told him! Of course, with stronger words and ill wishes of getting STDs."

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other and giggled.

Scott and Allison glanced at each other, nervously.

"I should probably take her home," Allison volunteered, standing up.

"What? No," Scott exclaimed. "I mean...um...I'm sure...I'll help you?"

Stiles made a face.

"What? No!" Stiles exclaimed, reaching forward to pull Lydia against him.

"I can help," Scott assured them. "I mean, you've had to deal with her all night, Stiles. Don't you want to enjoy the evening not babysitting?"

Stiles looked hurt.

"But—"

"No," Scott insisted. He stared at Stiles, hoping he got the point. "I got it."

Stiles glared at Scott then to Lydia and saw Allison helping her stand. Stiles' eyes lit up but not before Scott clasped his hand over his mouth.

"Please!" Scott hissed.

Stiles sighed heavily into Scott's hand then nodded. Scott lowered his hand with caution.

"You SO owe me," Stiles muttered, leaning back into the nasty couch, then jerking up. "Just text me that she gets home ok! And...and make sure she doesn't choke on her vomit. Or get it in her hair! She will not let you live it down for months. And if she won't drink water—"

"I think we got it, Stiles," Allison assured him.

Stiles sulked and waved goodbye to Lydia. Lydia giggled and waved back.

"Night!" she called.

"Fine. Good," Stiles huffed. "I'm going to get drunk. Or...you know...something."

"Take care of yourself, Stiles!" Scott called, trying to convey the 'thanks, man!', 'I might not come home tonight? Maybe? If that's gentlemanly?' and 'wish me luck!' all in one farewell.

"Do you have her?" Allison asked.

"Yeah," he assured her. "Lead the way."

 

\---

 

Erica pushed her way to the makeshift pong table with a shot in each hand. She reached it the same time as another boy.

"I got next game," he said firmly.

"Nice try," she replied and nodded at Boyd standing on the other side, watching the last of the cups being drained. The boy scoffed and walked away. Erica rolled her eyes and caught Boyd's gaze. "Have you seen Isaac?"

"He's around," Boyd assured her.

"He better be," she grumbled then nodded toward her coat pocket. "Take a picture?"

Boyd rolled his eyes but walked around to reach into her pocket and pull out her phone.

"Ready?" he asked.

Erica grinned and held up both shots.

"Got it," he said and put the phone back in her pocket.

Erica drowned one shot.

"I was hoping to play Isaac and Derek," she stated, gasping from the burn and chasing it with the next. "They're such poor losers."

Boyd shook his head; she knew he didn't understand but at least he entertained her.

"Sit tight," Boyd assured, disappearing into the crowd.

Erica watched the last players dump the remaining cups together before helping set up the next game and emptying the last of the keg.

"Sure you can play a game like this?" a boy teased.

Erica rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good, thanks," she seethed.

"But I don't like this game," Isaac's whined, catching her attention. "And Derek is terrible and I hate beer."

Erica glanced over her shoulder to see Boyd bringing Isaac with Derek following as he nursed a cup of something.

"Come on, Erica," Isaac pouted, hugging Erica's shoulders from behind with one arm. "Pleaaaase." He reeked of alcohol.

"You promised!" Erica pouted back. "Derek needs a partner."

"I'm fine sitting this out too," Derek offered but both Erica and Isaac were preoccupied with their poutfest to respond.

Boyd took one side as Derek took the other.

"Isaac," Erica tried again.

Isaac looked up; his eyes lit up.

"Stiles!" Isaac shouted, waving to the lanky boy. Stiles paused, mid-step, on his way to the kitchen. "You want to fill in for me?" Isaac motioned to the beer pong table.

"YES!" Stiles agreed. He rushed to the table with a grin.

"Thanks, man," Isaac patted Erica's shoulder and made his way out of the room.

"You're dead to me!" Erica called.

Isaac clutched his heart dramatically but disappeared into the dance hall, taking a boy's drink with a grin and a ruffle to the hair.

Erica rolled her eyes.

"Let's play!" she as she moved to Boyd's side.

"Have you ever played before, Stiles?" Boyd asked, flexing his shoulders like he was preparing for a serious game.

"Once or twice," Stiles replied, starting to flex like Boyd but looking silly. Stiles glanced to the side and noticed Derek for the first time. "You owe me a drink," Stiles accused.

"Oh he'll win it back," Erica called, moving her pong ball back and forth, taking aim.

"What?" Stiles hesitantly asked.

"Derek is terrible at beer pong," Erica informed him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Stiles whined loudly and tried to bury himself in his shirt collar, rubbing sweat against it.

"It's how we show our love," Erica assured him, throwing the ball. It arched beautifully into the cup before Stiles.

"Drink," she grinned.

 

\-----

 

Isaac finished off his stolen cup and tossed it in a nearby overflowing can. He noticed Danny and Jackson from the lacrosse team sitting by a keg with Matt Daehler. Jackson was talking to some sorority girls while Danny and Matt flirted.

Isaac chewed on the inside of his cheek as he grinned at a few passerbys but always glancing back to Danny and the others. After a couple minutes, he gave in and entered the kitchen.

Danny was sitting on a counter, smiling while Matt whispered in his ear. Isaac rolled his eyes and headed straight for Danny.

"Dance with me," Isaac stated, pulling Danny by the hand from the windowsill.

Danny gave Matt an amused smile before shrugging and following Isaac onto the dance floor.

Isaac 1: Matt 0.

"You reek," Danny said but followed Isaac.

"Maybe I needed some liquid courage," Isaac retorted as he pulled Danny close to him. "Not every day you can ask a star player to dance."

"I think you grabbed the wrong guy then," Danny teased.

Isaac reached forward and pulled Danny into a kiss. It was brief but Isaac pulled away with a grin.

"Nope," Isaac assured him. "I got it right."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [suchaprince](suchaprince.tumblr.com) for betaing this section and making me banners! Links will come soon!

"Be careful," Allison said, pushing Lydia's front door open for Scott. She watched Lydia's head to make sure they didn't accidentally hit anything before closing the door behind them. "Her room's in the back."

Scott stopped in the open entrance and paused.

"She lives here all by herself?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Allison shrugged and led the way.

It was a good thing Lydia was a neat freak; there was nothing to move or kick to get through to her to bed. Allison flipped the lights and heard a moan.

"It's so bright," Lydia whined.

Allison turned on the desk lap, glancing over Lydia's far advanced course work, and turned back to Scott as he sat her on the bed.

Lydia leered at him sleepily.

"Lydia?" Allison intervened, stepping between them. "Do you have pyjamas somewhere?"

Lydia pointed at a dresser, looking around prissily to be assisted.

Allison glanced at Scott, who was staring back at her.

"Can you get her a glass of water or something?"

"Oh," Scott blinked in surprise. "Yeah. I can do that."

She watched him leave and bit her lip as she helped Lydia out of her shoes.

"I think he likes you," Lydia sing-songed.

Allison blushed and shook her head.

"We just met," she pointed out.

"Doesn't stop him from staring at you in Econ," Lydia countered.

"Does he?" Allison giggled, setting Lydia's shoes to the side.

Lydia's eyes rolled with even more exaggerated now she was under the influence.

"I'm not playing this game," Lydia pouted and collapsed backward on her bed.

"I should go check on Scott," Allison muttered.

"I got you the—" Scott nearly crashed into Allison. "Here."

"Thanks," she smiled and took the glass, letting his fingers brush against hers in the exchange. They shared a small glance before Allison sat on Lydia's bed. "Lydia. You need to drink this."

"I want to go to sleep," Lydia murmured into her pillow, gripping it tightly.

"Lydia," Allison scolded firmly.

Lydia sat up and glared at her.

"You're worse than Stiles," she snapped, taking the glass, glaring over its brim.

"Yeah, I highly doubt that," Scott mumbled, looking away when the glare turned on him.

"I'll be back," Allison told her, which earned a shrug in response. She pushed Scott toward the door and led him back to the front door. In the large entrance, Scott smiled brightly as Allison shoved her hands into her jacket pockets.

"So I think I'm going to stay here tonight," Allison announced. She nervously bit her lower lip then smiled shyly up at Scott. "I just think I should keep an eye on her and she'll probably puke before the night's over."

Scott nodded then grinned.

"So you're just looking out for me by sending me home?" he teased.

"Yeah," Allison smiled and nodded, going with it. "Definitely. Saving you from all of it. The vomit and everything!"

"Allison!" Lydia whined loudly. "I need more water!"

"I'll see you in class?"

"Yeah, totally," Scott grinned.

Allison led him to the door.

"I'll see you then," Scott repeated.

"Yeah," Allison agreed, shutting the door on his smiling face.

"Night!" she heard Scott's voice on the other side.

Allison laughed loudly, leaning against the cool, fake wood.

"Allison!" Lydia yelled.

"Oh my God! I'm coming!" Allison groaned, completely dumbfounded how needy her best friend was while intoxicated.

Lydia sat on her bed pouting.

"What?" Allison asked.

"I think I acted like a crazy person," Lydia groaned.

Allison reached forward and took the half drank glass.

"I wasn't present for it but it definitely did not sound sober," she agreed then shrugged. "But I would never judge."

Lydia gave her a small smile.

"I knew we became friends for a reason," Lydia teased.

Allison smiled.

"Oh God, I'm going to be sick," Lydia groaned. Allison ran to grab a trash can.

 

\---

 

"Feeling better?" Erica asked, patting Isaac's head. He was a little pale from throwing up.

"A little," Isaac sighed and pushed himself up. "Have you seen Danny?"

Erica shook her head.

"Not since we started dancing," she replied.

Isaac sighed again.

"Hey," Derek called from the other room. "We're heading out."

Isaac leaned heavily on Erica.

"Of course he's sober," Isaac lamented.

"At least that means no walking," Erica pointed out.

Isaac giggled, truly feeling a little better after throwing up.

"Or paying for a taxi," Isaac added. "Remember the one time Boyd threw up in the crazy taxi."

Erica tried to stifle a laugh.

"Shut up," she prodded him playfully. "It was his first party."

"That's what he says," Isaac said.

They both giggled despite Derek's annoyed glare and Boyd's raised eyebrow.

"What's so funny?" Boyd asked.

"Horror stories," Erica assured him.

Both Derek and Boyd looked skeptical.

"Come on," Derek called. "It's getting late."

"We're coming, old man," Isaac whispered.

"You want to walk?" Derek snapped.

"I didn't say anything," Isaac insisted.

Erica shifted to get a better grip when she noticed a familiar face.

"Hey, hold up!" she called.

Isaac lolled his head back to see where she was looking.

Stiles was passed out beside another guy on a filthy, cup-ridden couch. His shirt had the remnants of vomit on the side.

"Oi, Stiles!" Isaac called. He pulled his head up, starting to feel sick again. "Stiles!"

Erica sighed and dragged Isaac next to Stiles. Isaac dropped heavily between Stiles and the passed out stranger.

"Stiles," Isaac tried again, this time patting his cheek. Isaac giggled. "Hey, Erica." Isaac took Stiles' chin and propped it up. He pretended to lick Stiles' face.

Erica pulled out her phone to take a photo.

Stiles groaned and Isaac pulled away.

"Oh man, you smell gross," Isaac complained.

"You...smell gross...you...pooper," Stiles muttered.

Isaac and Erica giggled.

"Can we take him home?" Erica begged.

Derek sighed.

"Come on!" Isaac chimed in. "He's so vulnerable and defenseless like this."

"Shut...up," Stiles muttered, blinking a bit and trying to take in his surroundings. "Where's Scott?"

Erica shrugged.

"It's just you and this dude," Isaac nodded toward the passed out boy.

Stiles made a face.

"I have to go home..." Stiles pushed himself up but quickly fell back down and into Isaac's lap, face first.

"I hope you're getting this," Isaac laughed, holding his hands up.

"Oh, yeah," Erica assured him, taking photos.

"Oooh, pictures!" Stiles smiled, making a poor attempt to pose.

"Can we hurry this up?" Derek tried again.

"Well, help us out!" Isaac called.

"Boyd," Derek directed as he turned to leave.

"What?" Boyd snapped.

Derek held out his keys and dangled them.

"Well who has keys?" Derek asked. Erica, Isaac and Boyd paused to think where they had left their keys; Stiles pointed at his front jeans pocket.

"Right here!" Stiles offered.

Derek frowned but turned back to his roommates.

"And who has car keys?" Derek asked.

Boyd frowned.

"I'll see you at the car." Derek walked away, without waiting for them.

Boyd growled but grabbed Stiles' arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Whee!" Stiles giggled.

"If you throw up on me, you're dead, Stilinski," Boyd warned, pulling Stiles onto his back.

"Piggybacks!" Stiles shouted, clinging to Boyd's back.

"I'm almost jealous," Erica teased as she pulled Isaac up from the couch.

Boyd shot her an unamused look.

"Say cheese!" Isaac called as he held his phone out.

"Cheese!" Stiles yelled, leaning backwards to see Isaac.

"Stiles!" Boyd snapped.

Stiles quickly up righted and held onto Boyd.

"Sorry," he muttered then fell silent.

Erica and Isaac took up the back, giggling at the boys.

 

\-----

 

Danny took Jackson's keys the moment they were out of Jackson's pocket.

"Don't bother," Danny grinned when Jackson moved his glare from his empty palm to his best friend. "You are way too drunk to be driving and you know it."

"Fuck you," Jackson muttered, not having a better retort.

"God, and to think I could have actually gotten that from someone who would," Danny teased before hitting the button to unlock the Porsche's doors.

Jackson rolled his eyes and collapsed into the passenger's seat.

"You never pick up people from parties," Jackson said. "Like ever. Especially when you're...guarding the keg."

"I've picked up people at parties!" Danny replied indignantly. "And they tend to not be my exes, if we really want to go there."

Jackson huffed.

"I can't believe Lydia tonight," he hissed.

"Really?" Danny asked, slowly backing the car out. "You dumped her before the first social event of the year and you're surprised that she threw a fit? You're lucky she didn't castrate you."

"Ha. Ha. Not funny," Jackson replied flatly. "Just because she couldn't get any didn't give her any right to block my chances."

"I think," Danny ventured, "given everything, you got off lucky and should leave it at that."

Jackson turned to him in disgust.

"Dude," he huffed, "whose side are you on?"

"Neither," Danny answered. "That's the whole point."

In all honesty, his allegiance was more whatever suited his current feeling. In some instances it was a spin of the wheel because neither Jackson or Lydia were ever better than the other and their break ups happened so freaking often that to pick sides was really just making his own life a living hell when the make up happened.

They drove silently for another mile before Jackson continued.

"Well you're supposed to have my back," Jackson grumbled when his phone vibrated. He glared at it and texted someone on the other side.

"And I do," Danny assured him, turning the car into Jackson's complex, "when you don't cock block me." 

"What?"

"Tonight," Danny reminded him. "With Matt. Did you really need to stick around us the entire night?"

Jackson made a face.

"What are you even talking about? You did that to yourself, wandering off with some...scrawny kid with frizzy hair."

"He did not have frizzy hair," Danny frowned.

"Yeah, but Matt sure as hell didn't care about me hanging out. Especially after you took off."

Danny drove silently.

"Anyway, you can do better than both of those losers."

Danny chuckled.

"Thanks for that vote of confidence."

Jackson shrugged and leaned against the passenger door. He was just starting to nod off when Danny shook his shoulder.

"We're here," Danny said, reaching over and opening Jackson's door.

"What?" Jackson asked, looking at the door then to Danny.

"I'm not walking home," Danny told him. "I'll pick you up tomorrow. Maybe it will get you to wake up on time for practice for a change."

Danny grinned at Jackson's glare.

Jackson threw off his seatbelt in a huff.

"You better pick me up," he hissed, slamming the door behind him.

Danny watched Jackson stumble then straighten to walk slower toward his apartment. Danny shook his head and drove off, half wishing he was a worse friend because he could totally pick someone up in this car. Going home alone sucked.

 

\-----

 

_Did you catch gonorrhea?_

Jackson glared at the text.

 _cant catch clap nxt 2Danny_ , he replied, nearly dropping his keys as he tried to text and open his door. He kicked the door behind him and threw his phone on the couch as he wandered into the large kitchen.

The phone vibrated but Jackson took his time grabbing a beer and popping the cap. He waited for it to vibrate again before dropping on to the couch beside it. He turned on the TV and picked up his phone.

_Aw. Did he cock block you again? How sad. :(_

Jackson rolled his eyes and tossed it beside him again.

There was nothing on TV. He glanced at his phone then grabbed it.

_U home? + alone?_

_Not at all._

Jackson glared.

_Allison's sleeping over._

_Funny. Not._

_O phone is getying tzkrn ae_ , and a moment later, _Lydia says GN_

Jackson shook his head and tossed his phone to the other side of the couch. He turned on ESPN and wandered back to the kitchen to find something to eat.

 

\---

 

"Dude, it smells back here," Stiles complained as he sat crammed between Erica and the window. His cheek pressed against the fogging window.

"Get your face off the window!" Derek snapped from the driver's seat.

Isaac turned around from the passenger seat and grinned at Stiles.

"Yeah, Stiles, that smell is you," he laughed and Erica joined in. Boyd kept his humor to a smirk.

"It does kinda smell like someone peed on you," Erica laughed.

"Or you peed yourself," Isaac giggled.

"It's not a pee smell!" Stiles exclaimed. "I don't smell like pee! Boyd, tell them I don't smell like pee!"

"You had better not have peed yourself or gotten pee on me," Boyd responded firmly.

"Derek!" Stiles tried again. "Tell them I don't smell like pee!"

"I think you're doing fine on your own," Derek replied, turning down a road on the other side of town.

Stiles looked out the unfogged gap he had made in the window.

"Where the hell are we?" Stiles muttered.

Boyd chuckled.

"Seriously? We're not even in the north part of town yet," Boyd replied. "The Target is like a mile down that way."

Stiles turned back to his riding companions.

"Yeah, why would I know that?" Stiles asked. "I live in East Hills. Why would I drive out here?"

Isaac stared at him.

"Because there's a Target."

Stiles rolled his eyes and watched them pass an abandoned building and an industrial complex.

"I'm going to die," Stiles muttered out loud.

"Not in my car," Derek warned.

Derek turned into a complex that was actually in the middle of nowhere. Its expansiveness hid that fact but there was nothing surrounding it. Nowhere for Stiles to run. Derek rounded a building and parked in one of the numbered spots. He left the door open for Boyd and Erica to crawl out, giving Stiles a face full of Erica butt for a moment.

"Oh. Oh...well," Stiles backed away and tried to get out from Isaac's side. He fought against the seatbelt before finally breathing fresh air. "Seriously, you guys need to air out that backseat."

Erica giggled, giving Derek a look as Boyd led them up the stairs. Derek stayed in the back, keeping a hand under Stiles' shoulder.

"This place is surprisingly nice," Stiles stated, his dazed eyes taking in the building. "Considering it's out in the middle of the boondocks."

"And it's quiet, when we don't pick up strays," Derek replied, directing him down a hall.

"Ha. Ha. Haven't heard that one before," Stiles grumbled.

"You've heard that one before?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. "That wasn't the first time someone insinuated that you were a dog?"

Stiles just stared at him, hands up in surrender.

Boyd unlocked the front door and led them inside.

The apartment was larger than Scott and Stiles' and larger than most four bedrooms Stiles had seen. The shared living space took precedent over the kitchen but given the overflowing can of microwave dinner boxes and the counter full of liquors, Stiles figured it wasn't a problem.

Derek let him go and brushed past to follow Boyd and Erica.

"You can have the couch," Isaac told him, pointing to the cat clawed piece of furniture. "Boyd's mom had cats. We didn't dumpster dive for it."

"Comforting," Stiles remarked then smiled, knowing Isaac was just being nice. "Thanks."

"Bathroom's down that way if you need to puke any more," he pointed where everyone had disappeared, "and..." Isaac looked around as he tried to remember what he was forgetting. "Oh! I'll get you some blankets." He disappeared down the hall and Stiles waited patiently. He was starting to sober up but the microwave told him that the sun was coming up in two hours and sleep sounded pretty great. Couch or not.

Isaac returned with a bundle of bedclothes and grinned.

"Well. Sleep well."

Stiles watched him turn off the lights before turning back to the shredded couch.

"I guess it's just you and me," he told it before throwing the blankets haphazardly. He curled into the mass and quickly fell asleep.

 

\----

 

Derek woke up to a thin sliver of light peaking through the blinds. He looked at the time and hated himself for not closing the curtains. He stood up slowly and pulled the curtains closed. Sitting on his bed, scratching his bare stomach, Derek figured he might as well use the bathroom while he was awake.

He slowly padded down the hall when he heard a loud thumping sound. He blinked a few times then groaned. There was a loud moan as the thumping continued. It was too early for this shit.

Derek walked into the bathroom and relieved himself. When he left, he could hear soft rustling under the loud thumping. Forty percent of him told him to go back to bed. Fifty percent told him to do the right thing. (Ten percent wanted to go find food but that was going to wait until real morning.) Giving into the fifty percent, Derek walked into the living room.

"Stiles?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"What?" was the grumpy reply.

"Come on," he called. "You can stay in my room."

Stiles threw the blankets off.

"Thank God. Please don't tell me you're joking because they've been at it for like two hours," Stiles grumbled, wrapping the bedclothes around his arms and headed down the hall without further encouragement. "How do you even have sex that long after that much alcohol? I mean, typically it's like just a few rubs and..." Stiles made some movements with his hands but Derek's eyes were focused on Stiles' bare legs as the younger man walked down the hall to Derek's bedroom. They were so lanky and weird. Derek yawned. It was too early for anything, let alone thinking about undergraduates' naked legs.

Derek shut the door behind him, blocking a lot of the noise but not completely silencing it.

"If you hit me in your sleep, I'm kicking you into the hall," Derek stated as he climbed into bed and curled up against the wall, taking all of his blankets with him. "And if you puke, they won't find your body in the morning."

"Har har," Stiles replied. "The floor's fine with me."

Derek shrugged, sleep already claiming him again.

"Suit yourself."

Derek was drifting back to sleep when he felt the bed dip beside him. He pulled himself tighter to the wall and fell asleep to Stiles' steady breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and those who kudoed, subscribed, and bookmarked the previous chapters.<3
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and all the lovely kudos and such. Happy New Years.

"Rise and shine!" Lydia called out cheerfully. Her voice echoed in the high ceiling apartment.

Allison groaned, pulling the pillows over her head while trying to bury deep into the couch.

"How are you even functioning?" Allison mumbled into the cushions.

"Are you hungry?" Lydia shouted. "I feel like making breakfast."

Allison twisted on the couch debating for a moment the pros and cons of shooting Lydia and her morning cheer in the face. After a moment she sat up and dragged herself to the kitchen.

"Did you have fun last night?" Lydia teased in a sing-song voice. "I saw you flirting with Scott McCall."

"We talked," Allison evaded then frowned. "How did you even see that? You and Stiles were blackout drunk ten minutes into the party."

"Omelet?" Lydia asked, her voice high and purposely ignorant.

Allison sighed and buried her face into her hands.

"Sure," she mumbled. "At least tell me how you are moving? The sleep deprivation alone should be slowing you down."

Lydia started pulling out a matching knife and cutting board set, shrugging.

"You don't get the grades I do from sleeping," Lydia said. "Did you get his number?"

"What?" Allison asked, looking up sleepily from her palms.

"Scott McCall. Did you get his number?"

Allison glared at her for the lack of subtlety.

"No," she answered, shrugging. "We'll see him in class. It's not like he will disappear into thin air now that we've spoken."

"You have to be joking," Lydia sighed with exasperation. "You can't just light a match and expect it to turn into a blaze!"

Allison raised her eyebrow.

"I'm not sure what you were expecting, but we just talked," Allison pointed out. "And we'll continue to talk. In class. When I see him."

Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely not," Lydia said, setting her cooking down to pull out her phone. "I'm inviting him to our study group."

Allison looked at her, bewildered.

"What study group?" Allison asked.

"The one I'm arranging right now," Lydia replied, her thumbs moving across her phone's keyboard.

Allison ran her hand over her face and sighed, knowing she wasn't going to win this round.

"I hope you know you're meddling," Allison pointed out. "Like, worse than my mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lydia smiled proudly. "It shows I care."

 

\---

 

Stiles snuck down the hall. He heard the apartment's occupants in the kitchen but hoped his stealth could get him into the living room without gaining their attention.

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac called.

Stiles sighed and grinned, not quite coming out of the shadows of the hall.

"You want breakfast?" Isaac asked. "Boyd did an Adalberto's run."

Erica shook a bag, designated for him, with her cheek bulging from food.

Stiles wanted to simultaneously bury his face in breakfast burrito and vomit from the smell.

"Um...yeah...just..." Stiles looked at the burrito then back at the couch. "Fuck it."

Stiles ran around the far side of the couch and grabbed his jeans from the floor, pulling them on as quickly as he could. He heard snickering behind him as he sat up and adjusted himself.

"Nice boxers," Erica smiled, handing him the last burrito.

Stiles glared at her as he yanked the bag away. He wanted to point out that it was her fault he hadn't slept on the couch but also wanted to actually enjoy his greasy breakfast and not lose his teeth to Boyd punching him in the face.

"Oh my God, I want to die in this burrito," Stiles groaned, burying his face into his greasy breakfast.

"So you slept with Derek last night," Isaac casually pointed out.

Stiles choked a little.

"I did notice that too," Erica said with a smile.

"I see how it is," Boyd added casually. "You're too good for my mom's couch?"

"Are you kidding me?" Stiles exclaimed. "I...I just didn't...you..." Stiles stammered then stopped when he noticed Derek, quietly eating his burrito. "Seriously? Nothing?" he exclaimed at Derek. "That burrito that good?"

Derek shrugged, biting into his half eaten breakfast.

"He just doesn't want to step into the line of fire," Isaac teased.

Derek kept eating, like ignoring the problem was going to make it go away.

"I can understand why!" Stiles exclaimed while trying to eat. "You guys are vicious."

Isaac, Erica and Boyd shared a proud glance.

"Freaking worst," Stiles grumbled.

A phone vibrated. Stiles watched Derek answer his cell and leave the table without any explanation. The others continued to talk as if nothing had happened.

"Well maybe we don't like you sleeping with our roommate," Erica laughed. "We're very protective."

"You're psychotic is what you are," Stiles retorted.

Isaac scooted his chair closer to Stiles.

"Want to see my new facebook photo?" Isaac asked, pulling out his phone with a pleased grin.

"Sure," Stiles replied, leaning over. "OH MY GOD! Seriously? Is that vomit?" Stiles pulled at his shirt then looked at the photo of him passed out on a couch. "Come on! You can't use that! You're ruining my entire future! Come on! Delete it. Let's pretend none of that happened. Yes? Please?"

"No way," Boyd interrupted. "I carried you. You got vomit all over my jacket."

"Probably rubbed an awkward boner on him too," Erica giggled.

Stiles and Boyd looked at her uncomfortably.

"And Stiles did pee himself," Isaac added, breaking the awkwardness. For Boyd at least.

Stiles glanced down at himself then glared at them.

"I did not!" Stiles exclaimed.

Isaac shrugged.

"You're the one who shared it," Isaac assured him.

"No," Stiles tried again. "I vaguely remember saying, I smell pee! I SMELL pee!"

Derek walked back into the living room and stared at the undergrads arguing. He shook his head.

"I don't want to know," he said, moving to grab his coat.

"Oh thank God, wait up!" Stiles called. He ran to grab his coat from the couch and nearly ran into Derek, trying to speed out of the apartment.

"What do you want?" Derek asked, stiffly.

"Oh come on," Stiles whined. "Don't leave me here with your little minions."

Derek glanced at his roommates then shrugged.

"I'll drop you off at your Jeep," he offered. "Wash your hands first."

"Why?" Stiles shouted but Derek walked out of the apartment, ignoring him.

Stiles glanced at Erica.

"Burrito grease and Derek's car don't mix," she answered.

"Are you serious?" Stiles exclaimed before running after Derek.

"Drive safely!" Isaac called after him.

"Oh my God! Are they like that all the time?" Stiles exclaimed, struggling to get into his coat.

"Yep," Derek nodded, taking the stairs at his own pace and leaving Stiles to try to catch up.

"Seriously, they're the worst!" Stiles continued. "Even Scott isn't that embarrassing and believe me, I think he tries."

Stiles wiped his hands on the front of his jeans and slid into the passenger seat.

"They're like little annoying siblings," Stiles continued as he fought with the belt. "If I knew what that was like. I assume it's like them! Never —"

"Stiles. Shut up," Derek snapped.

Stiles glared at him but slummed silently into the chair. Derek pulled out of his numbered spot and began driving out of the dead complex lot without another glance at Stiles. They drove silently to the first stop sign before Stiles' phone chimed.

 _Econ study group @3?_ A moment later. _Invite Scott. He needs it._

"Really, Lydia?" Stiles grumbled at his phone as he started texting. "No, 'how you doing Stiles? Got home alive?' Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Stiles looked at the time. 1:30. He huffed then glanced up at Derek. The older man's attention rested solely on his car.

Stiles' phone beeped again.

_There are more important things at hand than your wounded ego._

Stiles frowned and buried himself into the passenger seat, texting begrudgingly back to Lydia.

 

\----

 

Jackson heard a light thud beside his bed. His eyelids fluttered but didn't open; it was too early to be awake regardless of what he might have just kicked off the bed. There was another thud, this time beside his leg. Jackson groaned and pulled the covers over his head.

"Holy fuck!" Jackson screamed when something struck him sharp in the rib. He jerked up to see Danny standing by the door, lacrosse stick in hand. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

Danny shrugged, rolling a new ball into the net.

"Thirteen calls. Two knocks. Five balls. I think I'm being generous," Danny moved to lunge the ball when Jackson scrambled up the bed, holding his hands up in defense and kicking his sheets off.

"Holy fucking Christ, I get it! Ok! I'm up! Christ!"

Danny dropped the lacrosse stick.

"I'm going to get a soda," Danny called, disappearing down the hall.

Jackson sighed and ran his hand over his hair and face. How did he end up with a crazy ex and a crazy best friend? And a crazy coach. Typically he was all for practice, but on a Sunday, after the first big party of year, this was torture.

"Jackson!" Danny shouted.

"What?"

"Can I drink this Fanta?"

Jackson sighed and got out of bed.

"Yeah. Whatever."

 

\---

 

Erica leaned back in her chair and threw her breakfast wrapper into the trash.

"And score," she grinned.

Boyd rolled his eyes; his own wrapper sat beside the trash on the floor.

"No one's keeping score," Isaac pointed out.

"I am," Erica replied. "And I'm winning."

"It's throwing away trash," Boyd said. "It's not really a game worth keeping score."

"Yeah, like keeping score for the number of times you poo," Isaac added.

"First off, litter is serious business. So says the person who cleans up after most of you," Erica told them.

"Bullshit," Isaac coughed into his hand.

"And second, no one wants to know how much you're pooing. But you should be regular. I have some good yogurt—"

"Shut up!" Isaac laughed, throwing a piece of potato from his burrito at her.

Boyd tried to stifle a smile as he stood.

"You're both terrible," he said as he started to pick up the trash around the kitchen.

"He started it," Erica insisted playfully, tossing Isaac's potato piece back at him.

"Oh I started it?" He threw it back her. "I think—"

Isaac's phone rang.

Erica tossed the potato at Boyd with a giggle before noticing that Isaac was frowning as he held his phone to his ear.

"Yeah, I understand," Isaac said, before glancing up.

Erica and Boyd both watched him with concern.

"Yeah," Isaac almost whispered into his phone then pushed his chair out and walked to his room.

Erica glanced at Boyd.

"Do we want to know?" Boyd asked, returning to his clean up.

Erica thumbed at the table before standing and helping Boyd without replying.

"You ok?" Boyd tried.

"Yeah," Erica replied, flatly. "Yeah."

 

\---

 

"Thanks for dropping me off," Stiles stated as he pocketed his cellphone.

Derek glanced at him, unsure what provoked the need to say anything this far into the ride.

"Sure," Derek replied.

Stiles tapped his fingers as Derek ignored him and continued to drive in silence.

"So...how do you know Lydia again?" Stiles tried again. "I feel like you told me but I don't remember."

"She TAs for my Uncle," Derek replied.

"Oh," Stiles struggled for a reply. "That's cool."

Derek focused on driving. The silence hung like Stiles expected a reply but Derek figured he could deal with the silence better.

"What does he teach?" Stiles tried again.

"Psychology," Derek replied and turned into downtown.

"Really? Scott takes psychology. I wonder if he's taken him," Stiles wondered out loud.

"Scott? As in your roommate, Scott?" Derek asked.

"You know him?" Stiles asked in surprised.

"No," Derek replied, "you just referred to him at least every five minutes during beer pong last night. I thought he was your boyfriend until you cleared that up for me."

Stiles clammed up and a little red.

"I did?"

Derek nodded.

"What did I say?" Stiles tried.

"A lot," Derek responded then pulled to a stop. "Is that your Jeep?"

Stiles glared at Derek warily.

"How did you know I owned a Jeep?"

Derek grinned then leaned over Stiles to push the passenger seat door open. He could hear Stiles' breathing stutter.

"Go take a shower, Stiles," Derek teased.

Stiles threw the buckle off.

"You know what? I'm not playing it," Stiles snapped. "You're playing mind games and I'm not doing it." Stiles got out of the car. "You're so not as clever as you think you are."

Derek rolled the passenger window down.

"Are you sure?" Derek asked.

Stiles glared at him like if he tried hard enough he could see into Derek's brain.

"See ya, Stiles."

Stiles stepped away from the car as Derek drove off. Derek grinned. At least he got the last word.

 

\----

 

Lydia looked at herself in the mirror and added a new sheen of lip gloss. Allison had just left with instructions to meet her at the library in an hour. She hoped Allison had enough sense to wear something a little revealing. If not, Lydia was planning to bring a spare.

She smacked her lips and moved to finish her chemistry homework when her phone chimed.

_Tell me everything u know about Derek Hale_

Lydia smirked and leaned back in her chair. Chemistry could wait for this.

_Why?_

_Bc I h8 him A quick second later, And he deserves what's coming to him_

_What did you do?_

_Nothing. Tell me everything u know_

_Don't want to._

_Damn it, Lydia! Tell me or I'll sabotage whatever weird thing u have planned for Scott and Allison. Cuz I know ure planning something and I'll tell him that ure really harpy out for his soul and he would believe me bc he's Scott and he loves me!_

_Is that how you really want to phrase that?_

_Just give me what I want!!!!_

Lydia grinned and thumbed her way across the keyboard.

_Bring Scott to the study group and I'll help you._

_I'm holding U to that!_

Lydia set her phone down and admired her own genius.

\----

Scott jerked up from the couch as Stiles shuffled inside.

"What happened to you last night?" Scott asked, muting the television.

"You don't want to know," Stiles groaned and tossed his keys on the messy dining table. "I got convinced into beer pong and somehow it just went downhill from there."

"Oh," Scott pouted. "I missed beer pong?"

He watched Stiles grab a water bottle from the fridge and take a few large gulps.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you ditch your best friend for Allison Argent."

"Hey, you ditched me for Lydia," Scott pointed out. "We're even."

Stiles frowned then kicked Scott's feet off the couch to sit down.

"But you can thank me," Stiles grumbled, slouching into the worn couch. "We're meeting her for a study group tonight."

Scott perked up.

"We have a study group tonight?"

"Dude, you should have a study group every night, but yeah, we're all meeting at the library at three. Did Lydia not send you the text?"

Scott made a face.

"Lydia is going to be there?" Scott whined.

"Yeah, she is. Dude, this is actual studying," Stiles pointed out. "Not just an excuse for you to ogle Allison's breasts."

Scott grinned.

"You look so gross," Stiles groaned. "Cut it out."

Scott shrugged and turned back to the TV. He couldn't help if Stiles was jealous. It was no one's fault but Stiles' that he wanted to spend all of his time with unavailable women. Scott considered asking Allison to help Stiles get a girl. That could be a good ice breaker.

"What are we watching?" Stiles asked, taking another sip from his water bottle.

"Yeah, I have no idea. I was kinda just spacing out, thinking about last night. And Allison."

Stiles rolled his eyes and stood up.

"We're seeing them in like an hour," Stiles huffed, heading to his bedroom and probably get ready to shower since he smelled. Scott was also pretty sure there was vomit on his shirt.

"Yeah, but how do you expect me to actually pay attention to studying?" Scott called as Stiles walked away.

"By not wanting to look like a dumbass in front of her," Stiles retorted and shut his door behind him.

Scott grinned and put his feet back on the couch. He glanced at the microwave clock. Maybe if Stiles got wrapped up in one-uping Lydia, he could have more time to talk to Allison. Scott grinned and turned the sound back on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my lovely betas and readers.
> 
> [And my new banner graphic!](http://henriettayuki.tumblr.com/post/41306510711/suchaprince-made-me-graphics-for-my-fic-updates)

Allison arrived at the library front entrance bundled tight and warm.

"Thank God!" Lydia complained, rubbing her arms with vigor. "It's freezing!"

"Pants are very good investments for winter," Allison assured her.

Lydia eyed her.

"I'm sure," Lydia said before heading inside. "I reserved us a study room. Stiles and Scott are running late. Of course."

Allison nodded and followed Lydia up the large staircase to the study rooms.

"Are you taking English this quarter?" Lydia asked.

"No," Allison replied. "It just...wasn't me."

Lydia rolled her eyes as she pushed the study room door open.

"So back to square one?"

"It would seem that way," Allison sighed, suddenly feeling a little guilty for not having a plan and sticking to it.

Lydia never wavered in dedicated to biochemical engineering; her enthusiasm only appeared to grow as the semesters went on. Classes like economics, Latin and sports biology were just elaborate decorations on her structurally sound cake.

Allison, on the other hand, had been an English major for a semester. The semester before that had been biology and art design had preceded both. In reality, she had never left her first semester declaration of Undecided.

"Maybe you need to drop out," Lydia suggested.

Allison stared at her in shock.

"What?" Allison stuttered. "Why would you say that?"

Lydia shrugged.

"You have no idea what you're doing. You have no direction. You're kinda just wasting your time and money; you could be doing this at a community college," Lydia reasoned.

Allison looked back at her books, frowning.

"I'm just telling you what you already know," Lydia assured her.

"Thanks." Allison tried to sound normal but her voice was sharp and angry.

Lydia returned to her studying, unfazed.

Allison pursed her lips, trying to think of something to say that didn't come off as whining and petty. She glared at her books, hoping something would come to her. After a few minutes of nothing, she glanced up at Lydia but her friend was engrossed in her books and the opportunity wasted. Allison flipped through a few of her books but gave up after a moment; it only reminded her of her directionless future.

 

\------

 

Scott held his seat belt tightly as Stiles pulled into a free parking spot.

"Why did you let me sleep in?" Stiles exclaimed, rushing to pull his bookbag and himself from the Jeep.

"I didn't," Scott insisted. "I knocked at least three times!"

Stiles sighed.

"Lydia is going to murder me!"

Scott quietly pulled his stuff from the Jeep. Of course, that would be Stiles' angle; he probably didn't think once that studying with Allison would be completely embarrassing. On a scale of one to ten of things Scott felt comfortable doing, school was about a four. Econ being about two.

"Honestly I don't know how she even thought of this, planned it, anything. My brain is still foggy from last night," Stiles continued to complain.

Scott debated telling him that he also still smelled bad but thought that what Stiles didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

But what if Stiles felt the same way, Scott wondered. He lowered his head to try to smell his pits without Stiles noticing.

Not bad.

Maybe this was a huge joke.

Stiles and Lydia were pretty dangerous when they worked together and Scott's grades were bad. Maybe this was payback for the time Scott convinced Stiles to pick him up from class by telling him Lydia also needed a ride, which she didn't, it was just cold and Scott didn't want to walk home.

Maybe Allison was in on it too. A big ploy to get him into the library.

"What are you doing?" Stiles called.

Scott looked up with a blank stare.

"What?"

"You look constipated," Stiles grinned.

Scott laughed.

"Just taking in my escape routes," Scott assured him.

"In case Allison turns out to be frightening?" Stiles asked.

"In case you and Lydia are plotting something."

Stiles clutched at his heart.

"Your betrayal hurts, man. Hurts right here."

Scott grinned and let Stiles lead the way upstairs into the back of the library. This was definitely another Lydia-forced occasion to cross off his college experience list. Library. Done. Of course, he had seen the outside from the freshmen tour but libraries were so quiet and there was the no food policy. And one time, back home, he sat in a chair that a hobo had peed in the night before. Nope. Libraries and Scott McCall were not on the best of terms.

The study area was isolated in the back of the third floor. Lydia and Allison sat across from each other but neither of them spoke or acknowledged each other. Allison looked amazing, flipping through one book then check her information in another. It was fairly intimidating.

Stiles knocked on the door and entered.

"You took your time," Lydia complained, closing her small dictionary and textbook to exchange them with the larger economic textbook.

"Scott let me sleep in," Stiles tried to defend himself but Lydia's gaze never left him, which Scott was thankful. Unlike Stiles, he hadn't had a lifetime of training to escape Lydia's wrath.

Allison caught Scott's attention and smiled. She tilted her head toward the empty chair beside him. Scott all but pushed Stiles out of the way to take it.

Stiles glared at him as he dropped his backpack and moved into the empty seat beside Lydia.

"Anyway, how are you functioning after last night?" Stiles complained.

"Really?" Lydia snapped.

Scott looked away, not wanting any of that coming his way. He noticed a book hidden under Allison's several books.

"You speak French?" he whispered as Stiles and Lydia started bickering.

"Um," Allison hesitated. "Sorta? I can read it pretty decently."

Scott grinned.

"Cool."

Allison looked at her books, blushed a little, then looked back at him with the same shy smile.

"Thanks."

"Yeah," Scott said.

"Just focus on studying, Stiles," Lydia said, interrupting Scott and Allison. She gave Stiles a conversation ending smile and turned to her book. "Shall we start?"

Stiles pursed his lips with defiance and dropped his econ book on the table with a loud thump.

Lydia glared at him.

"What page are you guys on?" Stiles huffed, pushing chunks of pages until he found something familiar.

Lydia pulled her books out beside his and tried to coordinate.

Scott leaned over toward Allison.

"What kind of hangover cure did you give her?" he whispered, pulling his book out of his bag.

Allison hid a smile behind her hand.

"I had nothing to do with this," Allison whispered. "She woke me up at nine o'clock, alive and well, to make breakfast."

"Maybe I should have stayed too," Scott suggested shyly. "For breakfast and such."

Allison chuckled into her hand.

"Right," she teased.

"Are you guys done?" Stiles groaned.

Scott and Allison looked up. Stiles sat, waiting like a patience-worn parent.

"We're good," Allison assured them, turning the pages of her book.

"I think we're currently on market price changes," Stiles announced.

"We are," Allison confirmed. "We should probably go over immediate, short, and long runs again to make sure I got it right." She turned away to grab a notebook and pencil from her backpack.

Scott nodded but didn't understand anything they were saying.

"So the difference between short and long run is pretty simple," Lydia began, bringing out a paper and a pen to demonstrate.

Scott had a feeling that she was lying about the simple part but fumbled for his pencil in a poor attempt to try and mimic her drawing.

 

\--------

 

Jackson threw another shot at the net. Despite his distance, he hit the same spot again and again. Jackson glared at the net. He was just off the point he was aiming for. He nudged a ball toward him with his crosse.

"You're off," Danny teased.

Jackson glared at him.

"Give me a break," Jackson muttered.

"You want to try against a goalie?" Danny asked, pulling his mask down over his grin. "Might help. Unless you're too hung over."

"Maybe being hung over will actually give me a challenge for a change," Jackson retorted as he rolled a ball into the crosse's net.

"Really? You want to go there? From the guy who couldn't even take a couple shots of Jack Daniels?"

"Shut up," Jackson grumbled and threw the ball at Danny.

Danny caught it easily.

"It doesn't agree with me," Jackson muttered.

Danny laughed and threw the ball back to Jackson.

"Nothing agrees with you," Danny pointed out. "Jack, Maker's, Blue Moon, Fat Tire, Nattie—"

"Nattie Light is disgusting. You can't hold that against me."

Danny shrugged before barely capturing another ball from Jackson.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about your expensive taste."

Jackson threw a hard lob, missing Danny's crosse net and hitting the net behind him.

"I can stop taking you to the wine bars if you feel that way," Jackson retorted.

Danny threw the ball back and smiled.

"Then who will protect you from all of the middle aged boozers?" Danny asked.

"Are you saying I need your protection from drunks?" Jackson laughed. "I think you're the grope victim between the two of us."

"Oh? What about that one guy who said he was with an agency?"

Jackson blushed a little but threw another ball at Danny.

"We agreed to never to talk about that."

"Which means I'll always hold it over your head," Danny said with a smile.

"Jackson!" Coach Finstock called. Danny and Jackson glanced over to him. Finstock threw his arms out at the delay. "Are you deaf? Get over here!"

"One of these days, he's going to pop a blood vessel," Danny muttered.

"Yeah, that's not something I want to see," Jackson agreed. "Be back."

Jackson jogged over to the coach.

"Jackson, how would you describe your college experience?" Coach Finstock asked. Jackson began to reply when the coach continued. "The university is throwing a dinner thing this Thursday. They feel we need to encourage new students to join the lacrosse team. 'Apparently'," Jackson pulled back as Finstock nearly hit him in the face to make air quotes, "we're not first choice material. I want you to show these misguided youths their future! Their future here!"

"Um..." Jackson paused. Motivation wasn't really his thing. He ruled with fear and authority; that had never led him astray in the past. "Sure, Coach."

Coach Finstock grinned and lightly punched Jackson in the shoulder.

"See. That's the kind of attitude I want to show these new kids!" The Coach looked at his clipboard, dismissing Jackson with the change in attention.

"When is the dinner?" Jackson asked.

Finstock looked up, surprised that Jackson was still present.

"This Wednesday."

"I have class," Jackson started then trailed off as Finstock grinned.

"This is non-negotiable, Jackson. This is the stuff that makes men into captains! I'll see you at five."

Jackson nodded and headed back toward the field. Finstock always held captain over his head like a damn treat. Jackson knew how to lead; he was captain in high school. But that didn't stop Finstock from saying next game. Next game.

Danny approached him from the bleachers.

"What did he want?" Danny asked.

Jackson looked at him blankly then shook his head.

"Nothing. Some lacrosse dinner. Nothing important. Who's that?" Jackson nodded toward the stands, where Danny had been moments ago. A guy sat alone, watching them.

Danny glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

"A friend."

Jackson rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to know."

 

\---------

 

Isaac pulled on his hoodie as he left his room and shut the door behind him. Boyd and Erica were planning a menu for the week but they stopped when Erica noticed him.

"Hey!" she called, leaning back in her chair. "We're planning a grocery run. You want in on it?"

"I'm good," Isaac answered, grabbing his keys from the kitchen table.

"I can try getting you that yogurt I was telling you about," Erica tried again.

"Nah," Isaac muttered and headed for the door. "I'll get my own stuff this week."

Erica pursed her lips at his dismissal.

Isaac ignored her and headed out. He barely reached the parking lot when Erica caught up to him.

"Hey," she called out. She held her arms tight to fight the cold; she had ran out without a coat or proper dressing. "Where you going?"

Isaac shrugged.

"Probably to campus."

"Want company?"

"No," Isaac shook his head. "I just need to go out."

"Isaac..." Erica warned. "Is it your dad?"

"I told you, I just need to get out for a bit," Isaac insisted.

She didn't budge from her spot.

"I'll call you if it gets to that, ok?" he tried again.

Erica gave him a skeptical look.

"I promise."

"You want gummy bears?" Erica asked.

Isaac laughed.

"Don't bribe me," he scolded.

She pushed his shoulder playfully.

"Come on," she said. "We can throw them at Derek and Boyd when they're watching their car shows."

"All right," Isaac relented. "It's a date."

Erica nodded.

"I'm holding you to that."

Isaac watched her edge backwards toward the stairs. He wished she would let him be sometimes but there were probably times she felt the same.

Isaac took a deep breath before starting to jog to campus.

It was a long run to campus but Isaac was used to it. On mornings he didn't have class, Isaac ran. He kept spare clothes at the gym and often had time to grab breakfast before class. His route followed the west fields where the lacrosse team was finishing up their stretches despite the biting October air and messing around before practice. Isaac glanced at his watch as he walked into the bleachers.

It was hard to miss Jackson in a corner of the field in top form, as always. He appeared to be trying to top a personal best as he repeated the same attack again and again and again. Isaac watched the familiar move; it was Jackson's signature throw. Isaac had tried the throw several times before tryouts, thinking maybe it would improve his chances of making it on the team. But like most things Jackson did, it was about Jackson. It was something he brought to the game that made it work.

As if Jackson needed more reasons to justify his douche baggery.

Isaac turned to watch other players. His muscles begged to duplicate their moves but Isaac sat ramrod, refusing to even shiver against the cold. Sometimes Isaac liked withholding from himself just to feel the stifling restraint.

Isaac watched Jackson approach the coach when he noticed Danny looking at him. The star goalie stood alone, eyes trained on the bleachers.

Isaac waved instinctively then dropped his arm and felt sick to his stomach when Danny started jogging up to him.

"Hey," Danny greeted. Isaac nodded, trying not to smile too eagerly. "Weren't you at the party last night?"

Isaac bit his thumb to prevent a wide, pleased grin at the recognition.

"Yeah," Isaac said. "I'm surprised you remembered."

"Of course I remember you!" Danny laughed. "I have never seen Matt so pissed off. I mean, I've only really seen him in the copy shop but it was pretty hilarious."

"Well, it was worth it," Isaac replied. "Taking a bit of your attention away."

Danny looked pleased but said nothing.

"I'm Isaac."

"Danny," he replied. "So what are you doing here? If I didn't have to be, I would be enjoying my hangover in bed."

"Oh. Um...I was running to campus?" Isaac winced at the feeble excuse.

"And decided to take a look?" Danny teased.

"I also play lacrosse," Isaac added. Yes, he was also taking a look but Danny didn't need to know that.

"Oh?" Danny's eyes lit up. "Why didn't you try out?

"I did," Isaac replied. He shrugged, hoping it showed an indifference that he didn't really feel.

"I didn't—"

"It's fine," Isaac saved him. Danny looked truly embarrassed. "I wasn't expecting you to remember me. I mean, there were a lot of people trying out and you and Jackson were...preoccupied."

Danny blushed even deeper. By preoccupied, Isaac meant they were too busy ripping the newbies new assholes. Isaac's muscles burned for days and Jackson's grin still haunted his nightmares. Danny hadn't been much better but being goalie didn't have him actively making people eat dirt.

Yeah, Jackson was a dick.

"Maybe we could practice together, sometime," Danny offered. "You know, I could give you tips and afterwards we could...get food or something."

Isaac grinned.

"Yeah. That would be cool."

"Cool."

They grinned at each other stupidly until Danny looked back at the field.

"Well...I better get back."

"Yeah, I'll be here. Or at least until I freeze my ass off."

"I'll see you around?" Danny called as he walked backwards toward the field.

"Yeah. Definitely."

Danny returned to the field, glancing back at Isaac.

Isaac shoved his hands in his pullover hoodie and watched the lacrosse team move toward Coach Finstock. He caught Danny glancing at him and couldn't help but feel pleased.

 

\-----

 

Stiles' phone vibrated across the table, interrupting the rant he was directing toward the group.

"Your…" Allison tilted her head to read the screen, "Dad is calling."

"How cute," Lydia teased.

Stiles snatched his phone up and glared at them.

"Don't be jealous," he blushed and bolted out, causing more noise than if he had just moved slower. He could hear his friends' giggles following him. "Hey, Dad."

"Why are you whispering?" his father asked.

Stiles headed for an exit.

"No reason. What's up?"

There was a long pause before his father continued.

"Just checking up. Seeing how school is treating you."

Stiles glared suspiciously at no one.

"What's going on?" Stiles tried again as he walked into the cold outside.

"I don't know if you've heard but Sheriff Eisenberg is retiring."

Stiles remembered the old man. When he was younger, his favorite game at the station was throwing wads of paper into the dozing man's mouth. Sheriff Eisenberg was considered ancient decades ago but loved the job and a pro at delegation, which led to more naps. Stiles had to admire the guy for keeping the job for as long as he did.

"That guy's still alive?"

"Stiles," his father warned.

"Yep. He's retiring. Are you getting promoted?"

"Yes, actually."

"Holy crap, are you sheriff?" Stiles shouted.

"I'm lined up to be appointed sheriff."

"Wow, Dad! That's amazing! So they finally decided to open the suggestion box? I've been leaving them tips for years!"

"And there's my years of service," his dad added.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. "There's that. And my half a billion suggestions! Couldn't have hurt." Stiles grinned.

"Well I was hoping you could come down for a weekend after I'm officially appointed. Maybe we could celebrate. Burgers and beer."

"Ah, I see what you're doing here."

His father laughed over the line.

"Give your old man a break. This is Sheriff."

"Yeah. I know," Stiles exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you. But yeah, just let me know when and I'll make the time. As long as it's not midterms or anything."

"Good. Well, good talk."

Stiles laughed.

"I'll talk to you later, Dad."

"Bye."

Stiles hung up with a grin plastered to his face. He looked up, the cold finally biting at him. That was when he noticed Derek Hale stomping through the heavy ground cover as if it was actively tugging at him. Stiles chuckled at the stoic man who was losing a fight with ivy.

 

\-------

 

"You could make yourself useful," Peter drawled, looking over his laptop.

Derek looked over the top of an old magazine he had picked at random off of his uncle's bookcase.

"There's plenty of papers to grade," Peter gestured to the stacks of papers lining the cabinet under the window. Each pile was bulldog clipped with a course number.

"I'm good," Derek replied and returned to his magazine.

"I didn't call you for the company," Peter said.

Derek closed the magazine and tossed it on the side table beside his chair.

"So why did you call me? You implied it was urgent but its been," Derek looked at his watch, "over an hour of being ignored and me reading your crappy reading material." He gestured toward the magazine.

"Patience is a virtue," Peter assured him then turned in his chair and rose with grace. He grabbed a book and a few paper impulsively. "Take these." Peter tossed them at him. "I need you to see if you can find any similarities."

Derek flipped through the book. It looked dull and a whole lot like school work.

"What am I looking for?" Derek mumbled.

"Shall I write it down and pin it to your shirt like when you were small?" Peter tried again.

Derek slammed the book closed.

"Don't you have grad students for this?"

"I also have little nephews with nothing to do but pump iron," Peter retorted. "Try to expand your mind."

Derek sighed and took the things Peter handed him.

"I'll see you on Wednesday?" Peter asked almost dismissive as he returned to his desk.

"Yes," Derek grumbled before letting himself out.

Derek took the stairs from Peter's office two at a time. The building was closed and empty for the weekend, with the exception of Peter and a few others. The air hung stale in the old building and Derek felt suffocated.

The sharp cold gave a contrasting freshness as the doors latched shut behind him. He considered tossing Peter's book and papers into the shrubs where his Uncle would see his defiance but ultimately it wasn't worth it. The last time Derek rebelled against Peter, the younger Hale replaced his uncle's bath salts with rock sugar and ended up scrubbing the bath and doing Peter's errands for two weeks, rather than the requested one.

Derek trudged across campus. The fog clung in patches to the ground, giving the grass and dirt paths a brighter hue. Derek followed the line of trees heading toward the main parking lot, just beyond the Memorial Student Center and the library. The leaves were starting to clump along the sidewalk and gutter. Derek alternated kicking larger patches and dragging his feet through them. Most of them were too damp to make a noise but there was the occasional crunch.

"Watch out!" a voice shouted.

Derek looked up in time to see a biker riding on the sidewalk before they crashed. Derek glared at the young man as he picked himself up.

"Sorry," the boy called, picking up his bike and pedaling off of the sidewalk and across the service road without looking.

Derek grumbled under his breath and tried dusting himself off.

"Fuck," he sighed as he realized Peter's book had fallen open. Derek inspected it for damage and growled. Most of the papers stayed pinned in the pages but two rolled away toward low ground cover where the biker had taken off. "Come on."

Derek glanced down the service road before darting across.

"Stupid, fucking..." he muttered, stomping through the ivy. He yanked the pages out and kicked at the thick underbrush.

"You know, that's plant cruelty."

Derek glanced up and groaned.

"Give me a break," Derek muttered under his breath.

Stiles smiled bright and cheerful, neither of which Derek wanted right now.

"What do you want?" Derek snapped.

"Are you stalking me?" Stiles teased.

Derek rolled his eyes as he freed himself from the brush.

"I think stalking requires a degree of stealth that this is lacking," Derek assured him. He resumed his walk toward his car.

Stiles quickly followed him.

"Seriously. I'll call campus police. You can't follow me around like this. It was one night."

Derek laughed harshly and kept walking. He could hear Stiles' heavy steps following him.

"Go away, Stiles," Derek tried again.

"Not until you tell me your secret."

"Secret?" Derek muttered. "What secret!?" he glanced back at Stiles.

"What happened on Saturday!" Stiles shouted. "God! What else would we be talking about!"

Derek picked up speed to get away.

"I remember beer pong," Stiles started, thinking hard on the series of events he remembered, "and I remember you sucking! There were shots somewhere in there and...I remember dancing and...apparently Isaac tried to lick me at some point."

Derek shook his head without stopping.

"You need a chaperone," Derek chastised him. "You're lucky you didn't wake up naked in a ditch."

"I can take care of myself," Stiles insisted. He jumped in front of Derek. "What about you? Picking up random people at parties. I could be underage!"

Derek rolled his eyes and side stepped him.

"Believe me, I did not pick you up."

Stiles huffed loudly.

"What? Are you saying you're not good enough for this?" Stiles shouted and gestured toward himself. "Because you're not. You couldn't handle all this."

Derek stopped and turned toward him.

"Stiles. Go. Away, " Derek seethed, putting emphasis on each word. "I am really not into any," Derek gestured toward Stiles, "of this. You're obnoxious and not my type."

"Ouch," Stiles muttered.

"So do yourself a favor," Derek continued, ignoring the hurt expression on Stiles' face. "Go back to whatever it was you were doing and don't bother me. Ever. I'm not interested."

Derek turned and kept walking. He half expected a shouting retort or some response but none came. He gripped the book tighter, ignoring the silence, and kept walking. He was about to walk across the student center lawn when something pegged him hard in the head.

"What the..." Derek touched the crown of his head then looked up.

Stiles stared at him, his breath coming in puffs and hands clenched in fists.

"You little shit!" Derek shouted, seeing the rock that Stiles had thrown at him.

Stiles took off running.

Derek touched his head again then looked up.

Stiles was gone.

 

\------

 

"No one's home!" Erica called back as she left her keys in the door knob. Both of her arms were full of grocery bags and a few hung off her wrists.

"I think we bought too much," Boyd said, following her and trying to loosen the keys from the door. They fell to the ground where he kicked them inside to shut the door with his foot. "Honestly, half this stuff is going to go bad in a week."

"I bought some stuff for Isaac. I know for a fact he's going to need them," Erica said as she dumped her bags on the table. She pulled out her gummy bears and shooks them in Boyd's face. "Like gummy gummy bears." The bag actually read gummy gummy bears.

"Maybe you need to stop doing that," Boyd suggested, playfully trying to take the bag. "Let him starve once in awhile. Remind him how tough life is out there for him without you."

Erica laughed and leaned over the bags of food and kissed him.

"I really do love all of your ideas."

"Because they're all awesome?" Boyd suggested.

Erica pulled the bags off her arms.

"Because they always appease to my secret desire to see people who wrong me suffer."

Boyd raised an eyebrow at her.

"That's really not a secret," he said.

Erica pinched him hard in his armpit.

"Fuck! Don't do that!"

"You're such a whiner," Erica teased, moving away when Boyd tried to grab her arm. She slapped his hand away with a giggle. "Don't distract me. I'm thinking about serious business!"

Boyd rolled his eyes and started putting the food away.

"I think his dad is harassing him again" Erica said.

Boyd opened the fridge and started filling it.

"If he wants our help, he can ask for it," Boyd replied.

Erica rolled her eyes.

"Men," she said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Boyd asked, obviously offended.

Erica shrugged and tossed him a carton of whipping cream.

"That you're emotionally stunted," she replied.

Boyd leaned around the fridge door and glared at her.

"I am—"

He was cut off when the front door slammed open. Derek threw his keys at their poor table and disappeared down the hall toward his room. There was a door slam and Boyd looked at Erica.

"Well, I'm not," he insisted.

Erica stifled a giggle and started unpacking the bags.

 

\---

 

Lydia looked up as Stiles rushed into the room, shut the door quickly behind him then ducked down under the windows.

"What in the world are you doing?" Lydia sighed, too familiar to Stiles to really be surprised.

"I ran into your psycho teacher's psycho nephew," Stiles gasped between heavy breaths. "Do you know he's fucking psycho?"

"It's psych teacher," Lydia corrected him, "and I get a feeling you brought the psycho out of him." She took in his disheveled state. "What did you do? If my grade with his uncle is compromised, I will come after you and skin you alive."

Stiles looked over the window sill and slowly stood up, confident that Derek hadn't followed him after all.

"You wouldn't," Stiles retorted. "And I didn't and..." He paused and looked at the empty room. "Where the hell did everyone go? I was only gone ten minutes!"

Lydia rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Allison's not really a group studier and Scott isn't going to get this stuff anyway so I told them I have a big test to study for and they left. Win win."

Stiles stared at her in disbelief and exasperation.

"Really? All this matchmaking is going to blow up in your face one day."

"Wouldn't that be nice."

"That's not what I meant."

Lydia shrugged again then turned to him.

"Are you coming over?"

"Why?" Stiles asked suspiciously.

"Because it's Sunday and I want to watch movies and relax."

Stiles considered the logic for a moment.

"Ok." He leaned over to grab his bag and Lydia backed away wincing.

"Oh my God, you need a shower," she gasped and pushed away from the table. She grabbed her bag and walked out of the study room, not waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it. Lydia is immune. Har har.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the horrible delay; my wonderful betas both went out of town for longer than expected trips. This section wasn't betaed so if anyone is interested in betaing this chapter and the next, which is done and ready, drop me a line. It will move this process forward.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy the story and thanks for the kudos!

Scott stumbled out of the library after Allison, pulling his backpack higher up his shoulder.

"I kinda feel like I just left Stiles to the wolves," Scott stated.

Allison glanced back and laughed.

"You mean with Lydia?" she asked.

Scott glanced back at the library.

"Yeah," he replied. "He is hungover and...defenseless."

Allison nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

Scott stuttered at the sudden closeness then gave a nervous chuckle.

"I think he'll be fine," she insisted, looking up at him with a coy flutter of her eyelashes. "He has much more practice than the rest of us."

"I guess," Scott grinned.

Allison tugged at sleeve, pulling him after her.

"Where are you parked?" she asked.

"I got a ride with Stiles," Scott said, unable to stop his grin. "I mean, we could walk."

"No," Allison replied. "I can take us. I'm parked over in the west lot." She paused. "That is, if you're cool with it."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "Like...yeah, really cool."

Allison giggled. "Come on," she called, her face flushing behind her curls.

"I live in East Hills," Scott said. "By the shopping center."

"Oh, I live about a mile south of it," Allison replied.

"Awesome,"Scott grinned. "We live near each other. Maybe we can meet up and carpool."

"Carpool?" Allison teased.

"Or study date. Something fun," Scott insisted.

Allison laughed again.

"We could just get lunch?" Allison offered. "Or dinner. Something actually fun. Not that carpooling or studying isn't fun."

"You've obviously have never carpooled with me," Scott tried to play off his nervousness. Of course, carpooling and study dates weren't fun. What was he thinking?

"Yeah?" Allison asked. "Well we should remedy that."

"Yeah, definitely! Let's do that! How about dinner, tomorrow? I'll show you all the fun you've been missing out on," Scott said.

"Sure," Allison agreed with a wide, pleased smile. "Do you know the Italian restaurant in the shopping center?"

Scott paled a little.

"Yeah...kinda," Scott admitted with hesitation.

Allison fell quiet at the response.

"Is it bad? I only suggested it because it looked nice and—"

"Oh, no that's not it!" Scott tried to come to her rescue. "I just can't really...go there any more?" Scott took a deep breath. "I went there once with Stiles and I kinda dared him to stick one of their giant meatballs in his mouth and he said he could fit it and a second one."

Allison's face changed to a mix of fascination and horror.

"Did he do it?" she asked.

"Yeah...kinda," Scott replied. "Then he threw up and we got kicked out. So they banned us for a year. We can go there in about three months?"

"No, that's ok," Allison laughed. "I don't think I would be able to see pasta there without thinking of Stiles vomiting. Thanks."

Scott smiled sheepishly.

"How about Indian? There's a pretty good buffet place," Allison tried again. "I've been there once or twice with Lydia."

"That sounds good."

Allison stopped in the parking lot and pulled her keys out to unlock the helmet case on a motorcycle.

"Oh...wow," Scott muttered, looking at the bike.

Allison turned to him with a helmet held out toward him. She took in his face and paused.

"You ok?" she asked.

"I just thought you had...you know, a car," Scott said.

Allison looked nervously at her motorcycle.

"Is this ok?" she asked again.

"Yeah. Yeah, totally cool actually." Scott stepped forward and took the helmet. "I'm totally cool with it." Scott pushed the helmet over his head and grinned through the face shield. "Let's do this!"

Allison giggled and grabbed a second helmet. She pulled it on and smiled back at him.

"You can use these to get on, after I get on," Allison said as she kicked down a set of pedals, "and watch out for the exhaust pipe. It's super hot. Um...when we come to a stop, hold onto the tank and...don't freak out when we turn."

Scott nodded; he hoped he didn't look as scared as he felt.

"I promise, it's super fun," she assured him, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

Scott tried to keep cool and nodded.

"Yeah, I got it," he lied.

Allison slid onto the bike and looked back at him.

"Climb on."

Scott slid on behind her. He moved his hands forward around her waist then pulled away.

Allison laughed and tugged them back, resting them on her hips.

"Let me know if you get scared," she teased.

"I will," Scott muttered.

Allison started up the motorcycle and Scott had to breathe deeply to stop from freaking out.

 

\-----

 

Isaac let himself into the apartment as quietly as he could. He wandered toward his room in the dark when a sliver of light appeared from the hall.

"Where have you been?" Erica asked. She was dressed down in a tank top and loose pyjama bottoms showing her mid-drift.

Isaac threw his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter and followed her into her room without being asked.

Her bed was covered in fabric, half completed sleeves and other things Isaac couldn't identify yet. The photos and magazine cutouts that typically covered the wall were hidden by large sheets of paper with Erica's current project drawn heavy and messily across the expanse.

Isaac took a seat on her desk chair.

"Be careful for the fabric paint," Erica said, settling into her small empty patch on the bed and resumed sewing. "So where have you been? You missed a great Derek tantrum."

Isaac smiled.

"What happened?"

Erica shrugged.

"I have no idea. When he finally emerged from his room, he was grumbling and disappeared back into the dark pit with the milk and cereal."

Isaac rolled his eyes.

"I hope he doesn't forget the milk in there again."

Erica made a face.

"Oh, God. I had forgotten about that," she groaned. "I really don't know how he used to live without us."

"Like a hobo."

"Derek the Hobo," Erica giggled. "I bet he didn't shower."

"Ewww," Isaac laughed. "I bet Boyd would febreze him while he slept."

They both snickered. Erica suddenly pouted and kicked him.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Don't distract me. Where were you all evening?"

Isaac grinned.

"Just went to watch the lacrosse team."

Erica made a handjob gesture.

"Fuck off," Isaac laughed.

"Why do you even like that sport?" Erica sighed. "Play soccer. Or water polo. Water polo is brutal!"

"I want to play lacrosse."

"Yeah, and do you know what they told me when I said I wanted to play lacrosse?" Erica asked.

"Oh come on," Isaac sighed.

"They told me I couldn't even tryout."

"You just wanted to play because it would make Lydia Martin jealous."

"That would have just been an added bonus," Erica insisted. "I want to play. It's not my fault that they don't have a girls team."

Isaac leaned back in his chair.

"I went out with Danny," Isaac said.

"What?" Erica asked, jerking up to look at him.

Isaac smiled sheepishly but didn't meet her eyes.

"He came up to me and we talked and after practice we went out to dinner."

"Why didn't you just say that?"

Isaac shrugged.

"I didn't want to brag."

"You're full of shit," Erica said. "And if you weren't in front of my computer, I would throw a pillow at you."

"I'm hurt!" Isaac exclaimed.

"You should be!"

Isaac pushed at the paint bottles littering the floor.

"He was pretty cool," Isaac muttered. "I mean...he's..." Isaac stared off.

"The star goalie?" Erica asked. "And like really hot. Like...have you seen his abs? He's just so cool," she mocked.

Isaac laughed.

"Ok! I get it. But really. I just can't..."

"Put into words how much you want to bone him?" Erica offered.

"How nice he is," Isaac said.

Erica rolled her eyes as Isaac daydreamed.

"He's honestly, really cool," Isaac continued. "I just...I didn't want him to think I was too into him, you know? Or make him think I've been stalking him."

Erica paused in her stitching.

"Have you been stalking him?" she teased.

"No! I just...I didn't want to come on strong," Isaac insisted.

Erica rolled her eyes.

"Does that mean we can't go his games and hold signs and paint ourselves in body paint?" Erica asked, pouting like she was really disappointed.

"Well, I...I actually have a date with him?" Isaac offered with hesitation.

Erica glanced at him, suspiciously.

"Date date like he asked you to dinner with the intention of wineing and dining? Or date as in this was fun, dude. Let's hang out tomorrow and grab food."

"You've never actually met Danny, have you?"

Erica shrugged.

"That's how all the lacrosse boys sound in my head. 'Yo, dude. That was totally rad. Let's go give each other totally heterosexual butt slaps in the showers'."

Isaac laughed.

"Are you telling me that's what I'm missing out on? Shower butt slaps," Isaac lamented in a teasing tone.

Erica laughed.

"Yeah, Isaac," she assured him. "You're missing all the butt slaps. Maybe some gential wagging."

Isaac shook his head, trying to look disappointed but ended up laughing.

"Man, my sad life without lacrosse."

"Oh!" Erica exclaimed, putting her needle down. "We can have our own group." She shook her breasts at him.

"Oh yeah," Isaac moaned.

Erica's door opened.

They looked up to see Boyd, standing still with a perplexed look.

"I don't want to know," he said.

"Boyd!" Erica yelled with mock embarrassment. "We could have been naked! Think about Isaac's modesty!"

"Yeah, cause we've all seen you naked more times than we would like," Isaac said.

Erica reached over and threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up!" she laughed.

"Computer!" Isaac exclaimed, grabbing the pillow.

"I'm not complaining," Boyd said.

"But you know who really has the clothes problem?" Erica asked. She nodded her head toward the wall but they all knew who she was implying. "Mm...look at my tits. I've been working out."

Isaac and Erica laughed loudly. Boyd smiled.

"How about these guns?" Erica kissed her biceps. "They took blood and sweat."

"Hey!" a voice shouted from the other side of the apartment. They all shared a nervous glance. "Shut up down there!" Derek slammed his door.

They giggled. Boyd shut the door and sat on the ground to join them.

"Isaac has a date tomorrow," Erica said. "With Danny."

Boyd shrugged.

"Cool?" he offered.

"Boyd," Erica snapped.

Boyd raised his hand with a straight face.

"High five?" Boyd tried again.

Erica and Isaac laughed.

"But he wants to make sure there's no funny business," Erica continued.

"That's not what I said," Isaac whined.

"Sorry, he doesn't want to appear stalkerish," Erica corrected herself.

"Are you stalking him?" Boyd asked, a little taken aback.

"No!" Isaac exclaimed. "I don't want to come on too strong. I swear to God, Erica. Also, can we not talk about this?"

Boyd shrugged again.

"I'm really cool with that," he agreed.

"Thank you," Isaac nodded.

"Sometimes, you two are the worst," Erica muttered then motioned to Isaac. "Come here. I need to see how this is coming out."

Isaac dragged his chair over.

"What's this one going to be?" Boyd asked.

Erica tugged the sleeves onto Isaac then inspected them.

"Probably a blouse," she muttered, turning her head from one side to the next. "Maybe you can wear it on your date." She smiled up at Isaac then tugged them off.

"Thanks," Isaac sighed.

"Any time," she said and returned to her sewing.

They continued to talk before it got late and Isaac called it a night. As he moved to leave, Boyd took his chair.

"I'll see you on campus," Isaac called to Erica.

"Lunch?" she asked, setting down her inspection to look at him.

"Sounds good," Isaac agreed. "Good night."

Isaac let himself out and shut the door behind him.

 

\-----

 

Jackson grabbed a bottle of salad dressing from the shelf and tossed it in his basket without a second glance. He continued down the aisle, grabbing barbeque sauce and meat rub.

"I'm just saying," a familiar voice said, "the green stuff is better."

"Are you buying it?" Lydia asked. "I didn't think so."

There was clinking of glass on the other side. Jackson turned to walk the other way when Stiles and Lydia walked past him. Stiles stopped, causing Lydia to pause with him.

"Mmm. Steak and salad," Stiles commented on Jackson's basket.

"Do you have a problem, Stilinski?" Jackson asked.

"Nope," Stiles assured him. "I'm good. Looks like you're about to start the grill."

"And if I am, it's none of your business," Jackson said.

"Come on, Stiles," Lydia insisted. She glanced at Jackson but kept walking without verbally acknowledging him.

Jackson glared at her retreating back before grabbing Stiles by the collar.

"And where's the doofus today?" Jackson asked.

Stiles knitted his eyebrows together then laughed mockingly.

"Oh, you mean Scott. Haha. That was almost funny," Stiles said with a flat, unamused tone.

Lydia turned back to them.

"Leave him alone, Jackson," she said.

"Well, there has to be a reason he's out here with you rather than with his best buddy. His homosexual butt buddy."

"Isn't that being redundant?" Stiles asked. "If he's my butt buddy, doesn't that make the homosexual part obvious?"

Lydia huffed loudly.

"Does it really matter, Stiles? Come on!" she called.

"No, no," Stiles continued. "I want to see where his pea brain is going."

Jackson grinned, his teeth grinding as he pulled Stiles closer to him.

"Woah, I didn't—"

"Just think about it, dickbrain," Jackson whispered. "Scott's suddenly gone just as she needs someone to tend to her wounded ego. I wonder how that worked out."

Jackson could see the little cogs starting to turn. He patted Stiles hard on the chest.

"Just helping a friend out," Jackson assured him.

Lydia glared at Jackson and grabbed Stiles' hand.

"Come on, Stiles," she said. "He's just being a jackass."

Jackson shrugged, knowing he already won this round.

Stiles let himself be dragged away but he glanced back at Jackson a few times before they disappeared again down the frozen produce aisle.

Jackson grinned at his victory and went in search of meat to grill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Allison's motorcycle does have a story. It's from an abandoned cyberpunk AU where Allison was the leader of a primarily girl bike gang and she was really, really awesome. One of the plot points was her getting separated from Scott and Stiles during a search. Derek was the other bike rider in the story and he begrudgingly comes to assist her because of the Derek/Stiles feelings and Stiles and Allison's friendship. They end up getting away because Allison has her bow and Derek has mad driving skills. Obviously there were bike mods so she could stay on and later they would have a 'you're not as bad as I thought but we're not friends' moment but I always wanted Allison on a bike after that. She would be so badass. And that's the story behind Allison's bike.


End file.
